Seeing Double
by Jade-Rose
Summary: The end of a business trip is the beginning of a mystery for Jeff Tracy, when he sees something that cannot be possible. Updated with Chapter 20: 'A Fractious Fraternity'.
1. Deja vu

_Author's General Note: I used to answer any questions and points raised by reviewers in an Author's Note at the beginning of the next chapter I uploaded, but since that's not allowed anymore, if there's anything you want answered, just drop me a PM or email._

_Author's Note: The background used for Lucille and her relationship with Jeff in "Seeing Double" is taken from my first Thunderbirds fan fiction,"Ties That Bind"._

* * *

**Seeing Double**

**Chapter One: Deja-vu**

The sun shone down brightly through the skies above New York City. It was yet another beautiful summer's day, the kind where you wished you didn't have to be stuck in the midst of a busy, sprawling metropolis, pushing past people who were so wrapped up in themselves that if they sent you flying into the road, they didn't notice. Or didn't care. The stream of traffic was constant, though it was not as busy as in years gone by, thanks to redevelopment of the city centre and the fact that public transport was so much more in favour these days.

The newness of the buildings and the blackness of near-fresh tarmac couldn't hide the scars though. For the older generation, the ghost of 2001 still hung in the air, whilst for the younger inhabitants, 2026 was still fresh in the mind. Two great icons of the twentieth century hadn't even made it halfway through the twenty-first century. Yet, all over the world there were monuments and other remnants of bygone civilizations that had lasted for thousands of years. Perhaps it was the price to pay for living in the modern age, where life could move so fast it was over before you realised that you hadn't done much with yourself. Well, at least that couldn't be said of him. Jeff Tracy folded up his newspaper and put it in the recycling bin near the bench he was sat on. Everything was recycled if possible these days. He looked around him and let out a small sigh. New York always gave him mixed feelings when he visited. He had done many business deals here, made many friends – and one or two enemies, which he had always supposed was to be expected when dealing with the corporate world. He had met Lucille here, who later became his wife. Jeff got up and began making his way back to where the conference he was attending was being held. As he walked along, he mused that Lucy wouldn't have liked how Manhattan had changed almost beyond recognition. To be honest, it was probably how he coped with coming here. Most of the streets that they had walked together that evening all those years ago either didn't exist anymore or had new buildings lining them. He had the memories of how it used to be, but they had been blurred by the new layout. It was like seeing something in a dream, and then seeing it in reality.

But, the past was the past. It couldn't be changed, however much you wanted things to be different. Even Brains doubted the possibility of time travel. Besides, even if it ever happened, it would be more trouble than it was worth. Too many temptations to be had, too many consequences as a result. And what of the argument that things happen for a reason? That was a perspective that Jeff still found difficult to reason with sometimes. He usually mulled over it when he thought about Lucy. Did she have to die in order that he would eventually set up International Rescue? Even if he had been able to go back and save her, would she still have died through some other circumstances?

Jeff shook his head, berating himself for allowing his thoughts to get too pensive for the time of day. He should be focusing his mind on the task in hand. People from major companies around the world were meeting up here in New York for three days of presentations and discussions on how the trillions of currency accumulated by big corporations could be put to better use than being pumped back into areas where the money wasn't really needed. Some things never did seem to change. Jeff's own company, Tracy Industries, was now a global enterprise that dealt with several areas, ranging from his original aerospace engineering firm, through to pharmaceuticals. Jeff had always strived to help people, and as soon as his fledgling company had started making big profits, he had made sure that the spare change went to good causes. He had been in business for over twenty years now, and still found it hard to understand why some other companies had such a hard time over putting their cash to good use. Though the protests that dominated the first decade of the century no longer happened, capitalism was still considered a dirty word by many people.

Jeff may have got International Rescue under his belt, but he felt that he wouldn't truly make a difference to the world unless he could change the way people thought. The public face of Jeff Tracy was well respected for his innovative thoughts, however, there were some who thought that he was too much of a do-gooder and tried to undermine him, even at this conference, even after all these years. He had very little patience with such people. In fact, he tended to pity them. Most of them wouldn't dare speak to his face, which Jeff found to be as big an indication of their character than anything else.

He arrived back at the building where the conference was being held. Three more hours and it would be over. He was hopeful that something would come out of it. He wouldn't have left his desk back home if he didn't think that the trip would be worth it. Even though International Rescue had been running for just over two years now, Jeff still didn't like leaving Scott in charge, despite knowing that his eldest son was perfectly capable of handling things. He had never been able to shake off the feeling that he was missing something or that his help was needed when he left the island. Yet, he'd be the first to admit that the head of Tracy Industries couldn't stay permanently in the South Pacific, and it was nice to meet up with old friends and see some people other than his family and the other members of International Rescue. His mother often berated him for only leaving the island for occasions such as this, and not taking a proper holiday. But Jeff was a true workaholic, finding work preferable to lazing around on a beach. He had always worked hard and if it hadn't been for his five sons, he might well have immersed himself in his business and never come out again after Lucy died. In those long passed days, he had envisaged himself slowing down when he was about his current age. Instead, he was still at it. Jeff shook his head. It wasn't like him to be so melancholy at times like this. Maybe his mother was right and he needed to get out more. No, there were no maybes with his mother. She was always right. Jeff again tried to clear his mind as he went along to the room where the next presentation was being held.

"Hey, Jeff! Where've you been?"

"I had one or two things to sort out during lunch," Jeff replied, as his new companion fell into stride with him. Bill, as the man was called, was one of Jeff's longest associates. They had done a lot of business together, but Bill's ultimate aim had never come true; to have one of his two daughter's married to one of Jeff's son's. Each time they met, Bill enquired as to how the boys were, at the same time remarking on how Freya or Yasmin – or even both – were available. He said it in jest, but Jeff could tell that behind the jolly façade, Bill was serious. It could never happen though – it would mean revealing to Bill the secret of International Rescue. Besides, Jeff wasn't into pushing his boys into some marriage of convenience for his sake. He didn't need the benefits of being related through marriage to another family business. Bill didn't really need it either, but it would be something for him to drop into conversation when networking with other people. Bill was like that. However, overall he was a nice guy, and Jeff was prepared to put up with his constant hinting.

"Coming to the dinner afterwards?" Bill asked.

"No, I have to be somewhere else tonight," Jeff replied.

"Jeez, Jeff, when are you going to stop running around and lie back and enjoy that island of yours?" Bill asked.

"I'll stop when I feel like it, which isn't yet," Jeff told him. Bill just shook his head in amusement.

"I just don't know where you get the motivation from. I can't wait to retire."

"Surely you can afford to do that right this minute?" Jeff asked.

"Yeah, but I need everything to be right with the company before I hand over the keys," Bill replied. "You know how it is."

"Yes, I suppose I do," Jeff replied. The two men entered the room where the presentation was being held, found their seats and got themselves settled down.

The presentation and the rest of the afternoon probably hadn't been the most interesting that Jeff had ever had, but he got plenty of useful stuff out of it. After making his excuses and goodbyes, he started to make his way back to the hotel that he was staying in. It wasn't too far away, so as he had done the past couple of nights, he walked back. The streets were as busy as ever, with people coming out of work or simply rushing from A to B. Jeff felt relieved that he was finally able to go back home and get on with what had become the centre of his life. He walked down the street, unnoticed. It hadn't always been that way, but he couldn't say he missed the attention. He never became an astronaut for the fame, only for the sense of achievement. Jeff sighed to himself. Thinking about the past again. At this rate he was in danger of becoming an old codger. He looked at the people around him as he approached a crossing. A woman a yard or two in front of him glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his. For a split second, Jeff literally felt as if he were in the past again, back at the charity function, back at the instant where he had first laid eyes on…

"Lucy?"


	2. Something To Think About

**Chapter Two:  Something To Think About**

It couldn't be her.  It wasn't possible.  Jeff overcame his shock by forcing his legs to shift and he started to move towards the woman who appeared to be his dead wife.

 "Lucy!" he called.  She did not turn around again, but instead moved across the crossing with the rest of the crowd.  Jeff followed, but the surrounding throng of people seemed to close ranks around him.  He found himself pushing past people, trying to get a glimpse of her again.  He managed to get into a clearer space, and saw her walking ahead of him.

 "Lucy!" he yelled again.  Still she did not acknowledge him.  Jeff, in desperation, tried to run after her, but he found his way blocked again by other people.  By the time he managed to get round the slow moving couple laden with shopping, he had lost sight of her.  He went further down the street, but could not see her again.  Perplexed, Jeff stood in the middle of the pavement, trying to make sense of what he had just seen.  He wondered if he had been wrong, that all this thinking about the past had made him see something that wasn't there.  Perhaps the woman had just been someone who happened to have borne a resemblance to Lucy and he had seen what he had wanted to see.  He dismissed the idea.  He knew that he hadn't been seeing things.  He could never mistake Lucy for someone else, even after so many years.  That still didn't explain why she had apparently come back from the grave and was walking through Manhattan.  Or why she didn't respond to him, which was probably the one thing that stung the most.  Well, she'd vanished now, whoever she was.  Jeff was tempted to stay in New York and investigate further, but he knew he couldn't.  He had International Rescue to run, and besides, what sort of explanation would it be to the boys?

 "I'm staying on in New York because I think I saw your mother walking down the street."  It sounded ridiculous, not to mention upsetting.  Letting out a breath, Jeff realised that he was frowning deeply, as he did when he was troubled.  With a final look around him, he continued on his way to the hotel.

From a sanctuary not too far away, a russet-haired woman watched Jeff leave the scene.  She drew in a deep breath.  It was definitely him.  He was older, but it was _him_.

Jeff had arrived back at Tracy Island the next day, having stopped off in San Diego overnight.  He was tired, as was to be expected from such a long trip home, and three days of being in and out of meetings.  However, usually he was fairly buoyant from items that he had achieved during these conferences he attended from time to time and this tended to counteract any effects that tiredness had.  This time should have been no different, but that sighting of Lucy – there was nothing else to call her – had settled on the forefront of his mind, and had become a distraction, something truly puzzling for him to brood over.  He greeted his sons and his mother and the rest of the household politely enough, and after freshening up, he sat down to the meal that his mother had prepared for him.  Scott and Virgil joined him.  Jeff didn't have to ask after any rescues since he had phoned each night he was away to keep up with how things were going.  Scott started the conversation off.

 "So, Dad, how'd the conference go?" he asked.

 "Bill Fischer hopes you're all keeping well," Jeff replied, a twinkle in his eye.  "Yasmin has just finished her post-grad course at Berkeley, and is looking for something exciting to do."

 "Something or someone?"  Scott asked, knowing exactly what Bill Fischer was like.  Freya, the elder daughter, had been forced into his company a few years back.  She was a nice enough girl, but trying to chat him up when he was with his then girlfriend didn't result in a pleasant evening.  Jeff chuckled.

 "Well, probably a bit of both," he said.

 "She won't find it with us," Virgil said, innocently.  Scott got the subject back on track.

 "Do you think that there will be any changes?" he asked his father.

 "We won't get everything we wanted, but I think that there are some things that will come into fruitation."

 "That's good," Scott said.  "It'd be a shame if you went all that way for nothing."

 "Yes," Jeff said.  "I would feel as if I had lost my touch if I didn't get anything out of an international conference."

 "I can't see that ever happening," Scott said.

 "Anything else to tell us that's interesting?"  Virgil asked.  Jeff looked over at his second eldest son, the one who looked so much like his mother.  His mind again went back to New York.

 "No," Jeff replied, shortly.  The boys looked slightly surprised at his abruptness.  Their father usually had some interesting news of some description, whether it be gossip or technological developments.  Virgil and Scott glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

 "Oh.  Okay then," Virgil said.  Jeff finished his meal.

 "Well, if you'll excuse me boys, I have things to get on with," he said, rising with the dirty plate and cutlery in his hands.  When he had gone, Scott turned to Virgil.

 "Got the feeling that Dad's hiding something?" he asked.

 "Yeah.  Well, I guess it can't be anything much.  It's most likely to be something he'll tell us about later," Virgil replied.

 "You're probably right, Virg," Scott said, looking in the direction that their father had gone in.

Meanwhile, Jeff had taken his plate into the kitchen, where his mother was busy fussing around with clearing out cupboards.

 "That was a lovely meal, Mother," he said, putting the plate and cutlery in the dishwasher.

 "Thank you," she replied.  He turned to go.  "Is everything okay, Jeff?" she asked.

 "Yes, of course it is.  Why wouldn't it be?"  Jeff replied.

 "You just seem to be rather quiet, that's all."

 "I've had a long journey, mother.  You know how it is," Jeff answered.

 "Of course.  It's just that you're not usually like this when you come back from somewhere."  Josie paused in her cleaning and looked up at her son.  "Oh, dear, I do hope that you're not coming down with something."

 "I feel fine," Jeff protested.

 "You work far too hard," Josie scolded.  "That's probably what it is."

 "No, it's not," Jeff replied.  Josie gave him a look.

 "There's no need to take that tone of voice with me, Jeffrey," she said, reproachfully.

 "Sorry, Mother," Jeff said.  He was silent for a moment.  "Something happened in New York that I don't know how to explain."

 "I'm listening, Jeff.  You can try explaining," Josie said, patiently.  Jeff dithered over whether to tell her or not.  Damn it.  He needed to tell someone.

 "I saw Lucy," he told his mother, frankly.

 "You saw who?" Josie replied, in disbelief.

 "I know it shouldn't be possible, but I saw Lucy walking down the street, just ahead of me," Jeff said.

 "Are you sure that you weren't mistaken?"  Josie eventually managed to ask.

 "No.  There's no way it was someone else," Jeff said.

 "Jeff…how can that be possible?  For Lucy to be alive?"

 "I don't know," Jeff said.  His dark blue eyes took on a familiar steely look.  "But I intend to find out, somehow."

 "Do the boys know?"

 "No, of course not.  I can't tell them something like that."

 "If you're going to go off in search of this woman…Lucy…don't you think you should?"

 "I can't leave the island, Mother.  I've already been away for three days."

 "So how are you going to get to the bottom of this?"

 "I have other means," Jeff said.

 "Your agents?"  Josie asked.

 "If need be.  No, Mother.  This is something I want to try and investigate myself, first," Jeff said.  He glanced at the kitchen clock on the wall.  "I'd best get on with things."

 "Okay, dear.  I'll make sure you're not disturbed.  I believe that I'll need some help with these top cupboards," Josie said.  Jeff smiled at her, then left the kitchen.  When he was gone, Josie shook her head.  Jeff had obviously been putting himself under more pressure lately than any of them had realised.  He was cracking up in a serious way, if he truly believed that he was seeing dead people walking down the street.  Worried for Jeff's sanity, Josie decided that the only course of action would be to take the matter up with Scott.  


	3. Ulterior Motives

**Chapter Three: Ulterior Motives**

She sat in front of the mirror, studying her reflection. He had called her Lucy. That put a name to who she had been, but everything else remained too fragmented for her to fully make sense of things. If they knew about what she knew, or who she had come across… She shuddered involuntarily. It was bad enough as things stood. She stood up. There was work to be done.

* * *

"There you go, Grandma. It's all done."

"Thank you, boys. Saved me balancing on those steps." Josie smiled at Scott and Virgil. They turned to go, but Josie grabbed onto Scott's arm.

"Scott, I'd like a word with you."

"Sure, Grandma," Scott replied. Virgil elbowed him.

"Have you been pilfering the chocolate muffins again?" he grinned teasingly, before leaving the kitchen. Scott pulled a face after his brother, then turned to his grandmother.

"I'm not in trouble, am I?" he asked, jokingly. Josie shook her head.

"No Scott, not at all. I need to talk to you about your father."

"Okay," Scott replied, a little puzzled. Josie took a quick look round to see if there was any danger of them being disturbed, then looked back at her eldest grandson.

"I think that your father has been working far too hard lately," she began.

"Nothing new there," Scott said.

"Perhaps not," Josie agreed. "But I'm afraid that it might be beginning to take its toll on him."

"You think so?" Scott asked, a little surprised. Other than the fact that his father had seemed preoccupied since he had returned from New York, and had been a little more crotchety than usual before going there, he hadn't seen any behaviour that would give him cause for concern. Josie clasped her hands together.

"Well, when he came in here to give me his dirty plate, he told me he had seen someone in New York."

"What's so unusual about that?" Scott asked. His father was always bumping into old friends when he went to the East Coast.

"He can't have seen the person in question, Scott. He was adamant that it was them, absolutely insistent, but he can't have been right."

"Who did he see then, Grandma?" Scott asked her, curious and a little unnerved by her agitation.

"Oh, Scott…he said that he saw your mother," Josie burst out.

"He saw Mom?" said Scott, hardly believing his ears. "Well, he can't have. He must have seen someone who looked like her."

"That's what I said, Scott, but he wouldn't have it. What's more, he said that he's going to find her! That's what he's started doing at the moment," Josie said. "He didn't want this mentioned to any of you boys, but I couldn't keep something like that to myself, which is why I've confided in you. I just don't know what we should do about him. I'm worried for him, Scott."

"Yeah, me too," Scott replied, still wondering what to make of it all. He realised that his grandmother was waiting for him to come up with something. He scratched at a place behind his ear, as he always did when contemplating something.

"The way I see it is that we have two options, Grandma," he said. "We can let him pursue whoever it was he thought was Mom, in New York, and see how it goes, or we force him to take a breather. Now, given the trouble we had getting him to take a few days off to stay at Lady Penelope's ranch, I say we let him carry on for the time being, and hope that he comes to the logical conclusion that he was mistaken."

"That does sound sensible, Scott," Josie agreed. She hadn't really liked the thought of confronting Jeff. It would give them more time to analyse his behaviour, too, and if Jeff really was struggling, they would be able to come to the most appropriate solution.

"We keep this between you and me," Josie said.

"Yes," Scott agreed. "But I'd like to see if Dad will tell me about it himself. Virgil and I thought that he was keeping something to himself, but I never thought that it'd be something like that."

"Maybe you can make him see sense," Josie suggested.

"Maybe, Grandma, but you know what Dad's like when he's got his mind set on something," Scott replied.

"Sure do," Josie said. "Well, I'd best get on with the fruit crumble for dessert tonight. Thank you for listening, Scott."

"No problem, Grandma," Scott answered. Josie patted him on the arm as he left, feeling a little better now that her eldest grandson was aware of the situation. Scott always knew what to do.

* * *

Meanwhile, Jeff was setting about starting what no doubt would be a long and arduous task. Whilst there were no rescues to be dealing with, this would be more than enough to pass the time. He sat down at the computer and began a search for 'Lucille Tracy', which didn't return much other than some Lucille's that weren't his, and, painfully, some old news articles that reported upon the accident that had led to her death. 'Lucy Tracy' brought more results, but despite the many more pages of searching, it yielded nothing to aid him. Perhaps searching under her maiden name of Evans would be more productive. When she had worked as a journalist, in the first few years she had lived in America, Lucy had gone by her maiden name, even after they were married. Doing the searches of Lucille and Lucy Evans respectively brought up hundreds of results, and he began sifting through them. To his surprise, he found an old report of hers. He knew that she used to have to write the occasional one for the website of the stations she had worked at, but he hadn't expected them to be still around after all these years, albeit in a simple archived format. Out of curiosity, he entered the page.

_2nd April 1995_

_Interstate Expansion Sparks Protests_

_By Lucille Evans._

_Residents living close to Interstate 10 in the western suburbs of Houston are furious over plans to…_

Jeff looked back at the date. April 1995. Jeez, Lucy had written this before they had gotten married. Before he had gone on his first mission into space. And almost a year to the day before Scott had been born. He stared blankly at the date, strangely fascinated by the frozen little moment in time that was on his screen. Strange to think that it had been locked in cyberspace for over thirty years, forgotten by everyone, most likely including its author. He imagined that he was probably the first person in years to bother reading this. He read the rest of the article carefully, somehow hearing Lucy's voice in his head as he looked at the words. Jeff exited the page and continued his search, finding some more articles of Lucy's, and even some references to her in context with her work. Of course there were plenty of Lucy Evans's all over the world, and though some could easily be eliminated, Jeff was taking no chances and noted down the ones that he thought could possibly offer him a lead.

"Dad?" Scott interrupted his thoughts.

"What is it?" Jeff answered a little more harshly than he had intended to, making Scott almost shrink back.

"Just wondered what you were doing working. I'd have thought you'd be resting after your trip," he said.

"I have things to do that can't be put off," Jeff answered.

"Anything I can help you with?" Scott asked, innocently.

"No, thank you," Jeff replied, gruffly.

"Grandma is a little worried about you," Scott said. "She thinks you're working too hard."

"Why, what has she said to you?" Jeff asked, for a moment wondering if his mother had betrayed his confidence.

"Nothing. She was just expressing some concern, which I guess she'd do for any of us," Scott replied. Jeff relaxed a little.

"You're right," he said. "Well, you can assure her that I'm fine."

"I could, but is that true? You've been unsettled since you've come back from New York. Maybe you need to take a proper break," Scott said, and braced himself for the inevitable glare. Jeff looked up from the computer.

"Don't you think that I should be the one to decide if I need a vacation?" he snapped. "You know that I don't find going away particularly useful for me."

"It was only a suggestion," Scott said, gently. Jeff subsided.

"Of course it was, son. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Dad. But you know, maybe what you need isn't a vacation as such, more some time out to do something different."

"Like what?"

"Something that you enjoy, like astronomy or flying. Maybe you could go travelling again, like you did a few years ago."

"I can't risk having what happened to me then happening again, Scott," Jeff said, remembering crash landing in the Malaysian jungle and suffering a broken leg.

"Well, just give it a thought, Father. That's all I ask," Scott replied. He must have managed to convey just the right tone of voice, for Jeff gave him a wry grin.

"Okay, Scott, I'll think about it. But don't nag me about it, else I'll think you're after something other than my well being!"

"As if, Dad," Scott retorted, good-naturedly. "Anyway, I'm going to find Alan. I promised I'd help him out with some stuff on Thunderbird Three."

"Sure. The way things are today, I reckon you'll have all the time you want on it," Jeff said.

"Yeah, it has been pretty quiet," Scott replied. "See you later, Dad." He left his father alone. Hopefully, he had planted the seeds of thought firmly in his father's head. If everything went to plan, his father might just decide to take some time out in his quest for the woman he saw in New York, under the pretence that it was for other reasons. Scott sighed to himself. He hadn't succeeded in getting a confession from his father, but perhaps with a little more careful chiding, that would come out in time. He wasn't entirely sure if his father was cracking up as much as his grandmother feared he was, but even if his father were chasing ghosts, it would get him out from behind that desk. Quite satisfied, Scott made his way towards the hanger of Thunderbird Three.


	4. A Decision

**Chapter Four: A Decision**

A day passed, and Jeff was no closer to achieving his aim. He had been distracted by the need to coordinate a rescue during the middle of the night, and he was now beginning to feel the effects of having had no sleep for over twenty-four hours. His mother had literally threatened to hit him with her rolling pin in order to make him go to bed. Still, even though he did get changed for bed, and even lay down on his bed, he didn't go to sleep. He wouldn't allow himself to. Instead, he lay there, mulling over things. He glanced over at his bedside table, where he kept the only picture of Lucy that was on display in the house. It had been taken on a visit to his parent's farm in Kansas, just before the wheat had been harvested. She was leaning on a fence, smiling, russet hair lifted slightly by a passing breeze. The golden fields and bright blue sky were providing a serene background. She had been pregnant with Scott at the time the picture was taken, but only Jeff knew that. It was one of his favourite pictures of her, perhaps because it showed off her natural beauty so well, but perhaps because on a subconscious level, it trapped her in a sort of eternal youth. No matter how long he kept the picture there, Lucy would never age. She would never die. It struck him at that moment, that when he had seen her in New York, she hadn't been old. He sat bolt upright, cursing himself for somehow overlooking what seemed an obvious fact. If Lucy were still alive, she should be fifty-six years old. From his memory, she hadn't looked a day over thirty-five, the age she had been when she died.

"My God," Jeff said out loud. "But she can't…I was there when…" He trailed off into nothing, and he found that his mind was dredging up a question that had played on his thoughts for a long time after Lucy had died.

_What if I was wrong to allow the life-support machine to be turned off?_

Jeff closed his eyes. He thought that he had managed to deal with that notion a long time ago, but it had surfaced again, and was still just as painful for him. All of a sudden, he was at a complete loss. As the wall of will that he had built up over the past couple of days crumbled, a tide of exhaustion came rushing through. Unable to fight any more, Jeff fell into a deep sleep.

He awoke some hours later with a start. For a moment he felt disorientated, but soon regained his composure. He got up, noting that it was mid afternoon. He scowled, having half a mind to berate someone, anyone, for not waking him up sooner. Jeff had never been a person to spend all day lying in bed – save the odd time with Lucy! – But that was a long time ago. He got himself washed and dressed, then proceeded to make his way to the lounge, which was empty. Everyone else was obviously engaged in their own activities. Jeff decided to get himself a cup of coffee before settling down at his desk.

"Base to Thunderbird Five." A few seconds later, John's portrait vanished and was replaced by a live image of Jeff's middle child.

"Thunderbird Five receiving. What's up, Dad? Have a good sleep?"

"Fine, thank you, John. I'm just checking in on the aftermath of the fire in Havana, that's all," Jeff said.

"They're still damping down, and they'll have their work cut out to remove the remains of the buildings, but apart from that, they've got no problems," John replied, in his calm, affable voice.

"Good, that's what I like to hear," Jeff said. "Well, I'll leave you to it."

"Sure, Dad. I just hope it stays quiet. There's a meteor shower reaching its peak in a few hours, and I'd like to catch it."

"Ah…wish I'd be able to see it," Jeff said, a little wistfully. Seeing some of nature's phenomenon from the other side, as it were, had been one of the things he had missed since he resigned from being an astronaut.

"Well, you've always welcome next time Thunderbird Three comes up here," John replied, only half joking. Jeff simply let out a chuckle.

"I think I'm quite out of practice for that sort of thing, John," he replied.

"It's not like being in one of those tin cans you used to travel in," John teased.

"I hardly think that 'tin can' is an appropriate description for a pioneering piece of engineering like the space shuttle was," Jeff retorted. John laughed.

"I know, I know. Well, I'll speak to you later, Father."

"Bye John," Jeff returned, and watched as the live feed returned to the still portrait. John, John. Stuck in the middle, yet he never complained about it. At least, he never had done to Jeff. Added to that the fact that he was of a quiet disposition, and it had actually been easy to forget that he was there as a child. Well, Lucy couldn't forget him. John had stuck to her like glue as a toddler, and even when the youngest two came along, he never seemed to be far away. That memory triggered his mind into thinking about 'Lucy' again. He glanced at the portrait next to John's. It was Scott's. He thought of Scott's suggestion again. Despite the value he placed on International Rescue and how he disliked being away, it was so tempting to escape for a few days…and go looking for this woman. He had to admit that he was getting nowhere in his search by using the resources he had here on the island. He supposed that just a _few_ days wouldn't hurt too much. It would give him a tight deadline, but he thrived under those sorts of conditions. He'd had to work to tight deadlines for nearly all of his life. He tried to put the notion out of his head. He knew that for everyone's sakes, he should really dismiss the apparent sighting of Lucy as some weird case of mistaken identity and get back to focusing on International Rescue. But Jeff was not the sort of person to pretend he was wrong when he knew he wasn't, nor the sort of person to let something pass him by. He gritted his teeth. This was probably the toughest personal decision that he had had to make in some time. He was needed here…but if he didn't at least try to get to the bottom of things in New York, it would send him up the wall.

"Afternoon, Father."

"Scott. Just the person I wanted to see."

"Really?" Scott took a seat.

"Yes. I've been thinking about your suggestion. I'm going to take some time out from running International Rescue. Not a lot of time, mind, but I've decided that I need a few days away," Jeff told him. Inwardly, Scott was pleased that his idea had got into his father's head. Outwardly, he feigned a little surprise.

"Gee, Dad, I never thought that you'd take me seriously."

"This time I have my reasons, Scott."

"What reasons?" Scott mentally crossed his fingers and hoped that his father would spill the beans about his true intentions. He saw his father frown slightly and swallow, which meant that he was thinking of a way to put something.

"Here it comes," Scott thought. He was unsure of how this was going to sound, coming from his father's mouth rather than through his grandmother. Jeff looked him in the eyes.

"Son, what I'm going to tell you isn't going to be easy for you to hear, but I think that it is only right that you should know why I'm taking time out."

"Go on," Scott said.

"When I was in New York, just before I was due to return here, I saw someone who looked like your mother walking in front of me."

"How's that possible?"

"I don't know. I know that I probably sound crazy to you, but I know that I haven't mistaken her for someone else. I intend to use my time away to find her," Jeff said. Scott actually felt a little uneasy now. When his grandmother had told him, it sounded mad enough, but hearing his father talk about it, in earnest, as if he'd been presented with a wonderful opportunity, was unsettling. Scott saw the look in his father's eyes, and could see that he truly believed in what he was saying. Well, he'd put his father on this path, so he supposed that he'd have to play along until Jeff reached the end. He took a deep breath.

"I don't know what to say, Father. If you really saw Mom…I don't see how…but I don't see how I'm supposed to stop you from looking," he said.

"I have to, Scott. I need answers. I've told Grandma, and I'm telling you because I know that you're able to deal with it. I know I can trust you to keep this secret from your brothers," Jeff said.

"I guess that's the best thing," Scott agreed, though he thought that Virgil might be okay with it, after a little persuasion, but the other three wouldn't. He looked at his father. "So, what's the cover story?"

"I'll think of that later," Jeff replied. "I want to prepare for going away first."

"Do you think you really can do this alone?" Scott asked.

"You can't come with me, Scott. You'll be running things here."

"No, not me. What about asking Lady Penelope to help? She's good at mysteries."

"No," Jeff snapped.

"She's the best person I can think of, Dad. You can't search all of New York by yourself. This woman might not even be in New York now. Penelope won't mind. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to give you a hand," Scott replied. In the back of his mind, he didn't want his father to be alone. Penelope was more than capable of keeping him in line.

"I said no," Jeff replied, shortly. Scott knew to leave the matter, at least, for the moment. It was never a good idea to make his father angry, whatever his state of mind.

"Where's Grandma?" Jeff asked.

"I think that she's out in the garden with Kyrano. Something to do with the vegetables," Scott replied.

"Fine. I'll talk to her when she comes in," Jeff said. He noted a pile of paperwork on the corner of his desk. "I'd better get this out of the way first," he said.

"I'll be in the gym," Scott replied. Jeff simply nodded as he left, his mind already focusing in on the tasks at hand.

Unknown to the two of them, someone not too far away had overheard their conversation. 


	5. Getting Started

**Chapter Five – Getting Started**

Scott left the lounge, not really sure if he actually felt more positive since his father had opened up about the strange event in New York. Well, better out than in, as his grandmother used to say when they were younger. He began to make his way down to the gym when someone stopped him.

"Scott!" It was Virgil.

"What's up?" Scott asked. His brother sounded unusually aggravated.

"What was that all about with Dad?" Virgil demanded. Scott swallowed nervously.

"All what?" he replied, as innocently as he could.

"Some crazy conversation about Mom," Virgil said, looking his elder brother straight in the eye. Scott sighed. There was no fooling Virgil. At least, he'd never been able to do it. He half dragged Virgil into a nearby empty room.

"How much did you hear?" he asked, cautiously.

"Almost all of it. I was coming back inside to get a drink, when I heard Dad saying that he had seen someone in New York, and it was Mom," Virgil replied. His hazel-brown eyes, inherited from their mother, took on a more troubled than angry look.

"Scott, why are you letting him pursue this? It's nonsense."

"I think it is too, Virg, but he seems so sure of it. He's determined to get to the bottom of it, and you know what Dad's like when he gets his mind set on something," Scott said. "It's easier to let him go."

"I don't see how this helps any of us," Virgil replied, shortly.

"If it makes you feel any better, Grandma knows too," Scott said. "We both think that Dad needs to get out from behind his desk. Grandma thinks that that's the reason behind all this stuff with this woman."

"Someone has to go with him, Scott. He can't be left alone in that state of mind," Virgil said. "I know that he didn't want…"

"Don't worry," Scott said. "I suggested to him that he took time off to go to New York. I've got it all under control."

"You suggested it?" Virgil asked, shocked.

"It's okay," Scott assured him. "Nothing's going to happen to him. He'll have a couple of days in New York, discover he was wrong, and come home."

"And then what?" Virgil asked.

"Then we'll take it from there," Scott replied, in his calm manner. "It'll be far more straightforward to discuss that when he's not here."

"Perhaps," Virgil replied, sceptically.

"What I need you to do is pretend you know nothing, and play along," Scott told him. "The others will flip if they know about this." Virgil hesitated. He was worried for his father, but he trusted his brother totally, and he knew that Scott was right about their younger siblings.

"Okay," he said, eventually. "But you'd better not keep anything else from me."

"I won't," Scott promised. "Now, this is what I've been thinking…"

* * *

The way the sun streamed through the window suggested that it was late afternoon. The room was decorated in a plain but homely way, with personal artefacts scattered here and there. It was mostly tidy, except for the laundry waiting to be put away. Well, the laundry could wait for just a little bit longer. There was something more important and more enjoyable to deal with first. The tiny little baby in her arms. It couldn't have been more than a couple of weeks old, yet it stared back at her with piercing blue eyes, as if she was its entire universe. She stroked its cheek, lovingly, unable to decide what she was feeling. Was it absolute pride and joy, or some sort of wonderment? She whispered a few soothing words to the baby, but there was no sound. There never was. But she knew instinctively what she was saying through some emotion, although she didn't always know what was being said to her at other times. She somehow managed though, as if she already knew that things were about to happen, just like she knew, without looking, that the door to the apartment had opened. She turned her head and smiled at the man who had entered. He returned the smile and came straight over to her, greeting her with a kiss. He held out his arms for the baby, and she gave it to him. He grinned and spoke a few words to the baby then looked back at her, asking her something…

She woke up with a start. Another dream, another fragment of something that seemed so familiar, yet so distant. She had always had these strange dreams - though not every night - but she kept that very much to herself. She had to. They had become more vivid since her encounter with _him_ in the middle of New York, but they still did not seem to follow any particular order. One night she would dream that she was hanging a child's paintings on a wall, another night she dreamt that she was a child herself. The dreams were always in colour, but there was never any sound. But although that was almost as frustrating as not having these dreams in a logical order, somehow it didn't matter because it felt as if she had already been there. No, she _knew_ she had already been there. Yet despite the dreams, she had no real idea of who she had been. Lucy. That's what he'd called out to her. But who was Lucy? She shook her head with partial frustration. Maybe she should tell them, then they could end this feeling of limbo that she lived in. No, she couldn't do that. Those dreams – perhaps memories - were the only sort of power that she held over them. They thought they had her mind, but she couldn't let them know otherwise.

* * *

The final preparations had been made, and Jeff was ready to leave for the return trip to New York. His four sons besides Scott were quite surprised by his apparently sudden desire to take some time off, but then they enthusiastically encouraged him to go and enjoy himself. Of course, Jeff did not know that Virgil was aware of the real reasons for his departure. Virgil was a very good actor, in keeping with his artistic and musical talents. Although he was never dishonest, it had been a talent that had served him well throughout his life, usually when he needed to get out of something, particularly when he was younger. Nevertheless, Jeff was non the wiser that he had been rumbled by his russet-haired second son, and amiably bade goodbye to him, as he did the other residents of Tracy Island.

"Promise me that you will not get too lost in this," Josie had begged her son.

"I won't, Mother. It will just be a few days, that's all," Jeff assured her. He had set himself a deadline to try and accomplish his task by. He had to for his own sake, else he knew that he would probably search for 'Lucy' for weeks, maybe even forever.

"Scott, don't hesitate to contact me if you need any help for any reason," he told his eldest son before he left. "International Rescue is still the priority, not anything that I may be doing."

"Sure, Dad," Scott replied, though he couldn't help wondering if that really was the case. He watched as his father took the controls of his personal jet, starting the engines and making his way down the runway, before taking off perfectly and soaring into the South Pacific skies as gracefully as any bird. Scott looked over at his grandmother and knew that she was wondering the same thing as him: How is this all going to end?

* * *

The following day, Jeff once again touched down at the private airport a few miles outside of New York. The airport was specially built to handle private flights, especially those of the rich and famous. It saved the hassle of flying to somewhere like JFK International. Jeff could also leave his jet there, safe in the knowledge that it would be perfectly secure. He opted to be driven to his hotel in New York rather than take the monorail. Ever since that incident where a corrupt businessman had tried to talk Jeff into investing into a pan-America monorail network, only for it all to go horribly wrong, Jeff found that he had a slight aversion to monorails. He'd never been that keen on them, anyway, since they had started to make their appearance in the early '20s. Perhaps the next generation of monorail that was currently in the final phase of development, would be an improvement. Still, cars were no longer quite the evil they once were, due to developments in fuel, so he needn't feel that guilty about not taking public transport. After a short journey, Jeff arrived at his hotel, which was a different one from the one that he had stayed in previously. Most people would have gone and had a good rest after such a long journey, but not Jeff. After checking in, he had a quick freshen up and a very quick bite to eat before making his way back out onto the streets. Time was short, and he intended to use every available minute to track down this woman he had seen. To prove to his mother and son that he had been right.

He had started by making his way back to the conference centre that he had been at only a few short days before. He hoped that he wouldn't meet any associates there. That was the last thing that he needed right now. From the conference centre, he traced his footsteps back to the hotel that he had stayed in whilst he had been at the conference. It was the best place to start. If she had been there then, she may well be around there now. Whilst he walked the distance, he stopped passers-by, and asked them if they had seen a woman matching Lucy's description. He showed them a photograph of her that he had brought with him. Not the one in his bedroom, for that was too precious, but one that he had found whilst scrabbling about in a cupboard. He had no idea where or when it had been taken, but it was a good likeness. It was a hard, fruitless task. Some people were sympathetic; others dismissed him with a shrug of their shoulders. Some simply pushed past him, seeing him as yet another father looking for a daughter who had run off from a small town to seek fame and fortune on Broadway. Feeling more than a little dejected, he began to make his way to the hotel he was currently staying in, still stopping people to ask if they had seen the russet-haired woman in the photgraph. Once he had reached the hotel, he decided that he couldn't give up that easily, so stood outside, asking people for their help. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

"I believe that I may be able to help you, Sir," said a female voice. Jeff turned round, only to start in surprise.

"Penny? What are you doing here?"


	6. A Penny for your thoughts

**Chapter Six: A Penny for your thoughts**

Jeff didn't know whether to greet his friend and employee with a welcoming smile or launch straight into some sort of questioning tirade. She got in first.

"I heard that you might be in New York on business," she said.

"Yeah, but how did you…" Jeff began, and then stopped. He scowled as a realisation dawned on him.

"That son of mine is going to hear a few words when I return home," he said. Penelope took his arm.

"He only has your interests at heart," she reminded him, gently. "Come, we should go and find somewhere more discreet to discuss this matter, and to have something to eat." Jeff looked reluctantly at the passers-by going about their business around him. However, he knew that he couldn't very well tell Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward to go away and leave him alone.

"I suppose so, since you're here," he said, grudgingly. She smiled at this, and led Jeff into the hotel.

"Where are you staying?" he asked her.

"Here," she replied. "It was most fortunate that Parker was able to get a me a reservation in the same hotel as you."

"Where is Parker?" Jeff asked.

"I told him that he was free to amuse himself this evening," Penelope said.

"I see," Jeff replied. They said nothing more until they reached the dining area. Penelope requested that they be given a quiet table, away from most of the other diners. Once seated, and having been given a menu to ponder over, Jeff looked carefully at Penelope.

"What exactly did Scott tell you?" he asked. She raised her eyes from the menu.

"Everything, Jeff. Everything you told him," she replied. "Even that you were not keen, for once, to have my assistance." Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she said the last bit, but Jeff still felt embarrassment.

"I…" he began, but Penelope held up a hand to silence him.

"It's alright, Jeff," she said. "I understand how personal a matter this must be for you."

"Yes," Jeff replied, shortly. Unusually, he felt rather uncomfortable in Penelope's presence. Perhaps it was because her arrival had been unexpected. Or maybe it was because at some point, he was going to have to discuss a subject that was so very private to him. He rarely spoke at length about Lucy to the boys, never mind anyone else. Penelope seemed to sense what he was thinking.

"You don't have to discuss anything that you do not feel comfortable with," she assured him. Jeff's hand went instinctively to the pocket in his jacket where he had placed the photograph of Lucy for safekeeping.

"Thank you," he mumbled. The waiter came to take their orders and then went away again.

"Well, first things first," Penelope said, brightly. "How is your mother?"

"She's fine. Very well, in fact," replied Jeff.

"We still haven't managed to arrange a date for her to come and visit me," said Penelope.

"Perhaps after this matter is finished with, something can be sorted out," Jeff replied. "After all, she complains that I don't take breaks, but she's just as bad."

"Next spring should be nice," Penelope mused. "The flowers will be coming out to bloom in the gardens."

"Mother would like that," Jeff agreed. They continued to chatter about the boys and the other residents of Tracy Island – Kyrano, Brains and Tin-Tin – and general matters concerning 'the business' whilst they ate their meal. Jeff insisted on putting the charge onto his tab. Penelope only agreed to it after she had extracted a promise from Jeff that she would bear the expenses of the next one. They moved through to a lounge area for coffee. Despite the more cosy setting, Jeff sensed that Penelope was now keen to talk business.

"So, tell me what plans you have in place to track down this lady," Penelope said. Jeff took a sip of his coffee to stall for a little time. Although he was usually extremely well organised to the point of obsession, he had flown all the way back to New York with little more than the idea of asking people if they had seen the woman in his photograph. He had tried to come up with a proper plan, but had failed. All that had mattered was getting to New York.

"You aren't going to tell me that you haven't actually got one, are you?" Penelope guessed, somewhat amused.

"Um…well, I guess I was kind of hoping that someone would recognise her from the photo I've got with me of Lucy," Jeff said.

"May I see it?" Penelope asked him. Jeff hesitated, but then reached into his jacked pocket and brought out the envelope that contained the photograph. He took it out and gave it to Penelope. She held it carefully as she looked for the first time at the image of Lucille Tracy. Penelope studied the woman in the photo. She had a natural kind of beauty, which seemed to give her some sort of radiance. Penelope could see a little of all the boys in Lucy's face, but she decided that Virgil was the one who bore the most resemblance to his mother. Secretly, Penelope was surprised to see that Lucy had dark, reddish-brown hair. She had always assumed Lucy to be blonde, like John and Alan were. But there was much that Penelope did not know about Lucy, and she knew that it would be difficult for Jeff to divulge information. However, if they were to stand a good chance of tracking down this lady who appeared to be Lucy Tracy, then Jeff had to overcome at least a few of his personal demons. Besides this, Penelope was genuinely curious to learn about Jeff's deceased wife. She knew, of course, that Lucy had been killed as the result of a horrific car accident when the boys were small, but beyond that, nothing. Even if she had not been brought up to not pry into people's personal lives – although intelligence work was something quite different, of course – Penelope always had a strong sense that the other Mrs Tracy was not a subject to be broached. But, circumstances had changed now. She looked back at Jeff.

"She was very pretty," she told him, softly, and gave the photograph back to him. He used the excuse of putting the photo back into its envelope to hide his emotions.

"She was," he answered, quietly. He looked up at Penelope, who looked back at him, expectantly.

"Lucy was English," he found himself saying all of a sudden. "In fact, she came from Canterbury, which I believe is a place in the same area of England as yourself?"

"Well I never!" Penelope exclaimed, in the closest thing to shock that Jeff had ever seen from her. But Penelope was genuinely surprised. Well, no wonder Jeff muttered excuses whenever she had suggested visiting Canterbury cathedral during one of his occasional stays with her. She waited for Jeff to continue, knowing that she was privileged to be hearing this.

"It seems quite ironic, but I met Lucy here in New York," Jeff told her. "There was a special international function organised by a charity. I had been told to attend on behalf of NASA, which I had only just been signed up for, although I still had a little while left to serve in the air force. Lucy's father had also been invited and had decided to let Lucy come over too, so they could make a vacation out of it. As you can imagine, it was an almost impossible thing to try and pursue, and looking back, I think that we were both quite mad. But, obviously everything worked out, and Lucy came to live with me in America." He took another sip of coffee. Penelope waited patiently, quite fascinated by the side of Jeff's life that she had not seen.

"It was perhaps the most busy couple of years in my life. We were married within a year of her arrival in Houston, then Scott was born within a year of that," Jeff continued, a wistful look upon his face. "The moon mission meant that we had to move to Florida, then when I resigned from the World Space Agency to start up Tracy Industries, we moved up to Boston, where we stayed and raised what became five boys. Unfortunately, Lucy died when Alan was only two years old." He finished his potted history with a small sigh. Despite the commanding aura that Jeff usually carried with him, a lot of people also noticed that there was a sadness to him, including Penelope, but it had never seemed so bare to her before. Although she was still really non the wiser about Lucy's character, Penelope realised that she must have been some woman to have captured Jeff's heart in such a way that he still could not release himself from her grip years after her death. And fancy Lucille moving all the way from Kent to Texas in order to be with him! Even Penelope was not sure she would do something like that.

"I understand why finding this lady is so important to you," she said, simply.

"I don't think you do, Penny," Jeff replied.

"I can at least try to understand," Penelope replied. "That's better than nothing, is it not?"

"It is," Jeff agreed.

"Good," Penelope replied.

"Even if I find her, Penny, there's so many questions still to answer," Jeff said.

"Let us just concentrate on tracking her down first," Penelope said. "The answers may come from her."

"I hope so," Jeff said. Penelope brought a small notepad out of her handbag.

"You're still using paper and pen?" Jeff asked, incredulously. She gave him a look.

"So-called old fashioned methods have always served me well," she said. "I'd have thought that you would have learnt that by now. Besides, I've never been able to get the hang of those electronic book things."

"I'll say no more," Jeff replied, amused. Penelope opened the notepad to a fresh page. She also produced a street map of New York.

"Before we retire for the evening, we are going to come up with a proper plan of action," she said, and opened up the street map. "Now, where is it that you had the sighting of Lucy?"

"Here," Jeff said, pointing at the place. "Right on the junction." Penelope marked the place with a dot from her pen.

"Was she travelling in the same direction as you?" she asked. Jeff thought for a moment.

"She was, yes," he said. Penelope picked up a pencil, and drew a line back along the street in question until it crossed with another.

"We should first of all assume that she possibly came from one of the buildings on this stretch of the street," she said. "What kind of district does the street run through?"

"Well, at that point, it's where a lot of the City and State offices are," Jeff said.

"Government buildings?" Penelope asked.

"Yes, those too," Jeff replied. They looked at each other.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I would say that there's a possibility we could be on to something," Penelope said, suddenly getting the instinctive feeling she always did when she began to connect the dots of a mystery puzzle.

"It could be a coincidence," Jeff said. "But the whole thing is so strange that you may just be right."

"I think I shall be paying a few visits tomorrow morning," Penelope said. "But, there are other things to consider too."

"I'll get in another coffee," Jeff said, getting up from his seat. All of a sudden, things didn't seem so impossible after all.


	7. Needle In A Haystack

**Chapter Seven: Needle In A Haystack**

Penelope had risen early the next morning, despite a fairly late night spent with Jeff going over some details of plans with him. Before she had gone to bed, she had contacted Scott.

"He certainly seems to be convinced of this lady's existence," she had said to him, as they spoke over the videophone.

"Yeah, he is. What are your thoughts?" Scott asked.

"I think that your father certainly saw someone, of that there is no doubt," replied Penelope. "But I am sure that it cannot be your mother, much as Jeff would like it to be."

"Of course it can't be her," Scott said. "But do you have any idea of where this woman could be?"

"Well, the task is akin to looking for a needle in a haystack, however I believe that we have picked up a thread that is attached to the needle," said Penelope. "I will be carrying out investigations tomorrow, of course, but I do admit that I have a strong feeling that this mystery lady is still in New York."

"Guess that's something to be thankful for," Scott said. Penelope was silent for a moment.

"My own fear for your father concerns how well he will cope when he is forced to see that this lady is not your mother," she said.

"I tried to talk to him about the possibility, but he went into one of his evasive rambles," Scott said. He shook his head. "I wish that he'd…open up more."

"He's in a difficult position, Scott," Penelope said. "But I will do my best to help him see this through. I can promise you that much."

"I know that you will, Lady Penelope," Scott replied. "Thank you again for agreeing to do this."

"It's the least I can do," Penelope replied. "For all of you." They had finished the conversation soon afterwards. Penelope put on the finishing touches of her make up. She was not vain, however, she believed that one should always look one's best, especially if one had the challenge of asking strangers awkward questions ahead. She slipped the all-important compact into her handbag and gave her outfit a last tug into place. There was a timely knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Penelope called out.

"Parker, Milady," came the response.

"Come in, Parker," Penelope said. The door opened, and in stepped Parker.

"Good morning, Milady. I trust you 'ad a comfortable night?" he enquired.

"I did indeed, Parker. Jeff has good taste in hotels," Penelope answered.

"I should think so," Parker said. "Henyway, did you get to the bottom of this business habout 'is missus?"

"Not quite, Parker. You and I will be paying some visits today to try and further help Jeff," Penelope said.

"Hand what is Mr Tracy doing, if I may ask?"

"Jeff will continue to ask people on the street if they have seen a lady matching Lucille's description," said Penelope. "We decided that it would be easier for me to ask the questions under the circumstances."

"Quite, Milady," Parker agreed. Penelope smoothed a stray hair into place.

"Well, Parker, I think that it is time for us to go to work," she said.

"I'll go hand fetch the Rolls Royce," Parker said, and departed the room. Penelope followed him out of the room, but instead of following him down the back stairs, she then made her way down to the reception area of the hotel. Jeff had told her before they had parted for bed not to bother coming to see him in the morning, as he wouldn't be there. Penelope had the feeling that he would have spent all night out on the streets if she hadn't had arrived on the scene. She knew that when Jeff had his mind set on something, he went for it, no matter what. The danger she saw was that he was letting his heart take over his usually sensible mind. Heaven knows how he thought that he would be able to deal with this matter by himself. She saw Parker pull up outside the hotel in her distinctive pink car, and rose gracefully from her chair. For those few people who set eyes upon her as she left, Penelope looked like just another rich person going out to enjoy the sights of New York. But, behind the pretty face there was a sharp, determined mind that was already focused on something quite different. If she could not complete the task ahead of her, then she knew that she would feel that she had failed Jeff Tracy not only as an employee, but also as a friend.

"Where har we going, Milady?"

"West Empire State Memorial Boulevard, Parker," Penelope replied, without needing to check her notes.

"It's an odd thing to 'ave a road as a memorial for a building," Parker commented.

"The Empire State building meant a lot to the people here," Penelope replied.

"Of course, Ma'am, it's just that if henything 'appened to Buckingham Palace, you wouldn't catch the government renaming The Mall 'Buckingham Palace Memorial Drive', would you?" Parker continued. His eyes misted over a little as he recalled the past. "Though life at the Palace can't be 'alf has good under 'im as it was when I worked for 'er Majesty, bless 'er soul."

"I happen to think that William is a most charming man," Penelope said. She had met him on several occasions during her life, both when he was a prince, and as king.

"Well, of course you know 'im better than I, Milady, but if you 'ad been born a few years herlier, you'd happreciate my position better," Parker answered.

"Unfortunately, that is something that I cannot help," Penelope replied. "Now, getting back on track, Parker, our first stop is the New York Records Office. The story is that we're looking for a lost relative."

"Hand then what if we are not successful?"

"Then it's time to drop in on some local agencies and twist a few arms," Penelope replied, sitting back in her seat and carefully preparing her tale in her mind.

* * *

Jeff Tracy hadn't felt this drained for many years, possibly not since the last of his children, Alan, had grown out of babyhood. He couldn't count the time after Lucy's death. That had been something else entirely, something that he didn't like to think about. Jeff seated himself on a bench in Central Park, where he had arranged to meet Penelope. He hoped that she had had better luck than he had. After about ten minutes, he saw her approaching. He tried to read her face, but couldn't. She came and sat beside him.

"I'm sorry that I am a little late," she said.

"It doesn't matter," Jeff replied.

"How did you get on?" she asked. Jeff gave a half-shrug.

"I feel like a broken record," he replied. Penelope looked at him sympathetically.

"I have mixed news for you, I'm afraid," she said.

"Any news is good news," Jeff said.

"Parker and I didn't get very far in our visit to the records office. In fact, they were rather unhelpful," Penelope began, sounding a little indignant. "Regardless of that, I went back to the stretch of road where you saw 'Lucy', and began to ask some questions in the offices there."

"And how did that go?" Jeff asked.

"It is fortunate that my line of work means that I know certain things that most people don't," Penelope said, mysteriously. "Things that are most useful in persuading some people to tell me things that they shouldn't."

"Which are?" Jeff asked, a little impatiently.

"A very nice young man at the local FBI bureau was most helpful. After a little talking, he said that he would be prepared to aid me. He said that we might have more success if I had a picture that could be scanned in."

"So he could search the AIDD?" Jeff asked. "You did well to get him to do that. That's very sensitive information." The American Identity Database had been set up in 2015, after much wrangling with civil rights groups at both national and international level. By law, American citizens had to have a photograph taken that was then stored on a national database, along with their personal details. For adults, this photograph was also put on an ID card. For those over 21, the photograph had to be replaced every ten years. For the younger population, the deadline was every five years. Hence the FBI and the CIA had access to up to date basic information about the entire population. For the vast majority of those people, their entries would be nothing more than a few lines, and would never be touched. The most useful development in recent years was the upgrading of image technology, to allow the authorities to match, for example, wanted criminals or unidentified bodies, to names. The government had wanted DNA samples to be on file too, but that was internationally considered a step too far. No matter, for the AIDD was still a powerful tool, which is why only the CIA or FBI were able to use it. The most stringent technology was in place to prevent unscrupulous persons from hacking into it, and getting details of every person in the USA. A person who was caught attempting to obtain information illegally from the AIDD faced tough penalties, as did those who refused to supply information.

"I admit, I was quite pleased with myself over that particular incident," Penelope said. "Anyway, it was fortunate that you came up with the idea to copy Lucy's photograph last night at the hotel." Nearly all decent hotels had an extensive IT lobby to cope with the technology based lifestyle that most people led. Penelope continued.

"I gave him the copy to scan in, and he began the search, concentrating in the New York area. We got a result."

"You did?" Jeff said. His heart started beating fast.

"Unfortunately, her file was under further classification," Penelope said. "The agent said that he was not authorised to be able to access classified files. He said that I would have to speak to the head of the New York bureau about it, and to do that, I would have to go through the proper channels. Of course, I had to leave the matter there, else risk the poor man getting into an awful lot of trouble."

"What you've done is more than enough, Penny," Jeff said. He actually managed a smile. "I wasn't mistaken. I really did see Lucy."

"Not so fast, Jeff," Penelope said, placing a hand on his arm in order to try and keep him down to earth.

"What is it?" he asked, seeing a certain look in her eyes.

"The actual file was classified, but the name wasn't. I'm sorry, Jeff, but the match that came up…it wasn't Lucy," Penelope told him, quietly. Jeff stared at her for a moment, and then shook his head.

"That doesn't mean anything, Penny. She's just going by a different name, that's all. I did wonder if that would be a possibility."

"Jeff, you're forgetting something else. Files on the AIDD are only under further classification if they are sensitive in some way," Penelope said.

"Of course her file would be sensitive. Lucy died eight years before the AIDD existed. She's not even supposed to be on it," Jeff argued back. "How do you explain getting a match to her photograph if it wasn't her?"

"Sometimes the search can bring back results that are very similar to the person in question, but are not them," Penelope reminded him. "Jeff, there could be a hundred reasons why that file is classified. The lady in question just cannot be Lucy. You said yourself, she was not as old as she should be. You saw her in an area that contains government agencies. She may very well hold an important position in one of these, and that is why no further information was available."

"I thought that you believed me," Jeff said, accusingly.

"I believe you saw someone, Jeff. I came to help you find that someone. And that someone turned out, in my opinion, not to be Lucille Tracy," Penelope replied. "I know how much you wanted it to be her, Jeff, but I don't see how it could be."

"I don't accept that," Jeff said. He stood up. "Penny, you've done a lot to help me, but if you can't help me further, then I'll have to carry on alone." Penelope stood up to face him.

"Now wait a moment, Jeff. You're not thinking straight."

"I'm thinking perfectly, thank you," Jeff retorted. Penelope reached into her bag.

"If you were, then you wouldn't be about to walk off without this," she said, waving a printout of the AIDD match that she had obtained. Jeff went a little red around the ears, and took the paper from Penelope in a subdued manner. He read the scrap of detail on it. He looked at Penelope, renewed emotion in his eyes.

"This isn't over, Penny. Far from it."


	8. Into Action

**Chapter Eight: Into Action**

"Why did you miss the original appointment?"

"I just forgot."

"Forgot? That's not good enough. You know that it's important for you to see us regularly."

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm here now."

"Yes, you are. Well, let's get started then. You know the procedure."

"Twice a year, for as long as I can remember. Is it really necessary?"

"You know it is, my dear. We have to keep an eye on you."

"I know. I'm important." She further let her unenthusiasm show by sitting down on the bench with a sigh. She really had forgotten the appointment. Seeing him that day had added a completely new and unexpected dimension to her life. It had helped, yet it had also made things worse. She was unlikely to ever see him again, but she couldn't get him out of her head, even when she was awake. Her dreams had been more focused on him over the past couple of nights, too. Looking at her life as a whole, he was unimportant to her now, but that obviously hadn't always been the case, though she had known that for some time, even before their encounter. Her thoughts were interrupted by the man who she had come to see.

"So, anything to tell me?" he asked.

"No. Everything's just the same," she replied, blankly. She had become good at controlling her emotions over the years. It had saved her. Her mouth set in a line. She was not weak like some of the others had been, ready to spill everything at the first opportunity. And look at what happened to them. Well, it wasn't going to happen to her. She was better than that.

* * *

In a different part of the city, Jeff was still in Central Park with Penelope.

"Well, tell me how this matter still isn't resolved," said Penelope, waiting for him to speak. Jeff thrust the AIDD printout towards her.

"Her name," he said.

"What about it?" Penelope asked. It seemed innocuous enough to her.

"Clever use of her middle and maiden names," Jeff said.

"Names? You mean…" Penelope began. Jeff nodded.

"Evans was her maiden name. Natasha and Morgan were her middle names. She's shifted one onto her surname. Natasha Morgan-Evans." he said, and bit his lip. Penelope was silent for a moment.

"That's intriguing, Jeff, but it doesn't prove that it's her," she said.

"It does to me," Jeff replied, looking directly into her eyes. She was a little alarmed by the intensity in his eyes, but did not let it show. Instead, she said,

"Okay. I'll agree with you so far as to say that there is something worth looking at here. But I am afraid that I cannot share your opinion on who this lady may or may not turn out to be."

"Well, we're not going to find out standing here," Jeff said. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Penelope asked, almost having to run to keep up with his stride.

"To find her," Jeff said. Penelope pulled on his arm, and made him stop in his tracks.

"Now wait a moment. You're rushing off again, with no plan," she scolded. "You won't find her at this time of day anyway. We're best off going back to the hotel and thinking about this over dinner."

"I'm not hungry," Jeff replied.

"Well, I am," said Penelope. "Come, Parker is waiting with the Rolls Royce." Jeff looked down at the young blonde woman in front of him. Despite her innocent appearance, it was never a good idea to defy her.

"Very well, Penny. We'll go back to the hotel," he said, reluctantly. She said nothing, only smiled at him and took his arm.

* * *

Scott was beginning to have doubts as to whether it really had been a good idea to push his father into going to New York. He was in the middle of reading the latest update that Penelope had sent him. From what she said, all this mystery woman business was dragging Jeff further into some sort of obsession, instead of making him realise that the impossible couldn't happen. She had sent him a copy of the AIDD printout, attached to the message, and had asked for his thoughts. Scott opened the attachment, impressed like his father had been, that Penelope had managed to get hold of such information. His jaw practically hit the desk as he looked at the photograph of the woman on the screen. He then felt a wave of mixed emotions sweep over him.

"Well, they say everyone has a twin," he said to himself, trying to make sense of it all. No wonder his father had been so insistent that he'd seen his dead wife. It wasn't just a simple case of passing resemblance, more like separated twins. Except, they couldn't be twins. Some thirty years split the two women, if you believed, like Penelope, that they were two separate people. Scott studied the photograph carefully, almost frozen to the spot. He looked into the eyes of Natasha Morgan-Evans, and without really knowing why, felt a chill go down his spine.

What was the next move?

Scott was torn. Part of him wanted to draw a line under this whole affair, and leave it be. Yet he also agreed with Penelope that there was something too weird going on here, and that it was worth looking into. Someone looking exactly like his mother could be passed off as a strange coincidence, but the fact that she was using part of Lucille's name was odd. However, at the heart of it all was his father. Scott remembered too well the devastation that the death of his mother had caused all of them, but none more so than Jeff. He'd already had one breakdown in his life. Was it fair to him, to all of them, to possibly drive him towards another? Scott let out a long breath and shook his head. It was times like this that he wished that he wasn't the eldest, or like his father. Like his father. And if he were in his father's place…Scott knew that he wouldn't want to be thrown off track just yet.

* * *

Penelope couldn't help but smile to herself as she read Scott's reply to her message. She had always held faith in Scott's leadership skills as much as she did Jeff's, even if Jeff held his own doubts. She supposed that it was a natural result of being a parent. Despite inheriting a lot of her character from her own father, Penelope remembered that there were times when she had caused him a raised eyebrow or two whilst growing up. He wouldn't have been surprised at her chosen 'career' though, not at all. If anything, he'd have probably encouraged her. Penelope always held a childish vision in the back of her mind of herself and her father being secret agents together, a father and daughter team fighting against shadowy forces, like something out of a dodgy 1970's show. She let a small sigh escape. The dead were the dead, or so she had always thought until this escapade had come along. She adjusted the position of her shoulder bag. This was no time for indulging in her own memories. She was here to help Jeff find some answers. Penelope made her way down to the foyer of the hotel to meet him. He was already there, precisely punctual as always.

"Good morning, Jeff. I hope you had a good night's sleep," she greeted.

"No, not really," he replied, gruffly.

"Please don't tell me you were sat up half the night worrying," Penelope said.

"Just thinking, Penny. Not worrying," Jeff said. Penelope spotted Parker outside with the Rolls Royce.

"Parker's here. Are you ready?"

"More than ready," Jeff replied as they made their way to FAB1.

* * *

Some time later, they were moving slowly through the early morning commuter throng, Jeff trying desperately to see if he could sight the woman calling herself Natasha Morgan-Evans for a second time. As time got closer and closer to nine o'clock, Jeff began to feel his initial good feeling about the day start to disappear.

"This is impossible," he said, allowing his frustration to creep through for the first time.

"Stay calm," Penelope said, touching his arm lightly. Jeff nodded, forcing his disenchantment down inside him as he returned to scanning the crowd of people. He was sick of the sight of this street now.

"Jeff." Penelope sounded urgent.

"What is it?"

"Is that her?" she asked, pointing to someone crossing onto their side of the street a little way ahead of them.

"It is," Jeff replied, instantly recognising the woman. Penelope discreetly pressed a small button hidden on her bracelet as she and Jeff hastened their steps to catch up with Natasha, though they stayed a couple of paces behind. Penelope saw their opportunity as they approached a road that they would have to cross. She raised her hand to her nose, as if she were rubbing an itch on the tip of her nose.

"Now, Parker!" she hissed into the bracelet. At the same time, she and Jeff launched forwards, one going either side of the russet-haired lady. Surprised at the sudden presence, Natasha turned her head and happened to look straight at Jeff.

"You," she said, shocked. Penelope twisted a stone on a ring she wore.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Ms Morgan-Evans," she said into Natasha's ear, pressing the ring into the back of her hand. It released a sedative that was designed to keep the recipient conscious, but controllable. Together, they were able to make Natasha walk to the edge of the pavement without protest. At exactly the same time, Penelope's Rolls Royce arrived. With the crowd not noticing anything untoward, Jeff and Penelope bundled their prize into the back of FAB1 and were driven off through the streets of New York.


	9. Questions, not Answers

**Chapter Nine: Questions, Not Answers**

Jeff could not take his eyes off the woman who was sat next to him in the back of Lady Penelope's pink Rolls Royce, staring vacantly ahead due to the effects of the drug Penelope had administered. She looked even younger than he had first thought, but that didn't matter for the time being. It didn't matter if she was calling herself something else. It didn't matter if there were a hundred questions that needed answers. He had found her. He had found Lucy. And she had recognised him! Jeff looked down at lap, where he and Penelope had placed her hands. Small hands, with long, delicate fingers. Just like he remembered. He couldn't help but reach out and touch the hand nearest to him. Soft skin that moved beneath his fingers in just the way it used to. Carefully, he placed his hand over hers, and held it.

"Jeff…" Penelope saw his actions, and wished to intervene, but one look from him quietened her. She looked at her watch. It wouldn't be long until the drug wore off, and they could get down to the business of finding out who exactly they had just pounced on in a busy New York street.

"How much longer do you think it is going to take us, Parker?" she asked.

"Hi shouldn't think that it will be much further, Milady," he replied, glancing up in the rear-view mirror. He found himself looking at a pair of hazel-brown eyes that appeared to stare back at him, though they weren't really. Parker tore his gaze away from the strange passenger, and concentrated back on the road. Since 'er ladyship had began working for Mr Tracy, he had ended up living a life less ordinary, though he supposed that there had never been anything conventional about his upbringing or subsequent existence. This whole affair of people coming back from the dead gave Parker the creeps, not least because there were a fair few ghosts he knew that could do with staying dead. There was a short gasp from the back of the car, as if someone had woken up suddenly. The effects of the drug had worn off Natasha. She stirred, and looked around the car, confused. She turned to Penelope.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"We need to ask you some questions," Penelope replied.

"Like what? Why have you kidnapped me?"

"We haven't kidnapped you, we just need to talk to you somewhere where we won't be disturbed," Penelope said. Natasha turned and looked at Jeff and then turned back to Penelope.

"Let me out of the car," she demanded, urgency in her voice.

"I'm afraid I cannot just yet," Penelope replied, calmly.

"I need to get out of the car," Natasha insisted.

"Why?" Penelope asked.

"Because every moment I spend with you and him, puts me at more risk," Natasha replied, indicating Jeff with a nod of her head.

"We…I'm not going to harm you," Jeff said. Natasha realised that he had hold of her hand, and yanked it away from his grasp.

"Lucy…I would never hurt you, would I?" Jeff asked, feeling as if she was already slipping away from him all over again. Natasha stared back at him.

"I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not called Lucy. You have the wrong person," she said, looking at both him and Penelope.

"I know that you're going by a different name, and we'll talk about that later, but I know who you really are," Jeff said. Natasha seemed panicked by this, and she leant forwards and banged on the glass partition that separated them from Parker.

"You! Stop the car!" she ordered.

"Hi only take orders from 'er Ladyship," Parker replied, completely unfazed by the commotion.

"Calm down," Penelope said, grasping Natasha's arm gently. She sat back down.

"Don't you know who I am?" Jeff asked Natasha. Natasha hesitated. She knew that she was linked to him somehow, and that staying in this car would perhaps lead to some answers, but to do so could risk her life, if it wasn't already in danger.

"No. I don't. I don't even recognise you," she said, evenly.

"You did earlier," Jeff replied.

"Did I? I must have been mistaken. Just as you are in who you think I am," she replied, nonchalantly. She looked away from Jeff, and sat staring straight ahead of her, arms folded. Jeff was at a loss for words, and instead looked over to Penelope.

"If you feel that your life is in danger, we can protect you," she said.

"You can't," Natasha replied, still staring ahead of her.

"Why not?" Penelope asked.

"Because you can't. If someone saw me being bundled into this car, I may as well be already dead," Natasha shrugged.

"You're supposed to be," Jeff said, despondently. Natasha looked at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she half-snapped. "Have you been sent to finish a job for them?"

"We said that we meant no harm to you. Who do you think we are?" Penelope asked, trying to keep the situation calm.

"It doesn't matter. It's none of your business," Natasha said. Penelope raised an eyebrow as she watched Natasha slip back into her reverie. Something was going on with this young woman, but what? She looked over at Jeff, who had something of a hangdog look about him. Obviously, he had expected – hoped – that Natasha would be Lucy, and everything would be shaken out and put in some semblance of order. Natasha was obviously no soft touch, either. It would be difficult to get to the bottom of anything. Penelope watched the scenery go by, her quick mind working out different tactics to use on Natasha. Contrary to her denial, she had recognised Jeff when they had seized her earlier. So why the turnabout?

"We're here, Milady," Parker said, pulling the Rolls Royce up into an empty yard that used to belong to some building that had long disappeared. The sea was not too far away from their position, a blue haze that was about half a mile away.

"I think its time that we went for a little walk," Penelope said.

"I'm not going anywhere," Natasha said.

"The more you co-operate with us, the quicker we can return you," Penelope told her. Natasha knew that she was outnumbered, and reluctantly got out of the car. Parker stayed with FAB1 as the three passengers made their way towards a little path that went in the direction of the sea.

"And there was me thinking you were going to take me to an abandoned warehouse," Natasha said, humourlessly.

"Sea air has such lovely qualities about it, don't you think?" Penelope said.

"What did you bring me all this way for?" Natasha asked, not in the mood for talks about the sea.

"To provide some answers," Penelope replied.

"Oh?"

"Jeff?" Penelope looked over to her friend and employer. He turned to Natasha.

"I first saw you a few days ago, not far from where we grabbed you. I called after you, but you just disappeared," he began.

"Wait…weren't you the man who was calling out for 'Lucy'?" Natasha asked. Of course, she knew the answer to that perfectly, but she wasn't about to let on.

"Yes, I was," Jeff replied.

"Well at least something makes sense," Natasha said.

"I think…I thought that you were someone I…used to know," Jeff said.

"So you've gone to all this trouble for a case of mistaken identity?"

"It's not as simple as that. You see…you look like my wife. Not just a resemblance, you look exactly like her," Jeff explained, somewhat awkwardly.

"I see," Natasha said. Inside, she felt as if a light bulb had come on. She looked back at Jeff, and suddenly felt a rush of memories that usually belonged in her dreams hit her like a tidal wave. She held a hand up to her head and closed her eyes briefly to cope with what felt like a hundred people talking at once.

"Are you okay?" Jeff's voice brought her back into the present.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine," she said, forcing the memories back to wherever they had come from. She shook her hair back over her shoulders.

"So I look like your wife?" she said, trying to sound unbothered.

"Yes," Jeff said. "You also share part of her name, Natasha."

"How do you know my name?" Natasha asked, going back on the defensive.

"I tracked you down," Jeff said. "I had to, because with you looking exactly like my wife, I had to know if you really were real."

"Well, I think that's answered for you," Natasha said.

"You don't understand. My wife died twenty years ago," Jeff told her. Natasha drew in a sharp breath. After a moment, she looked Jeff in the eye.

"I'm sorry that I've turned out not to be a miracle," she said, her voice taking on a more compassionate edge. Jeff looked back into her hazel-brown eyes and thought he saw something there that was Lucy, but a moment later, it was gone. Natasha continued.

"I can tell you that I was born in Florida in the year 2000, lived there until I was twelve and then moved to San Diego. Is there any more coincidence in that?" she asked.

"No," Jeff replied. Natasha looked at Penelope.

"I don't see what else I can tell you. I obviously can't be his wife," she said. Penelope sensed that Jeff had had enough, and that Natasha would not be more forthcoming.

"I see that," she said, graciously. "We will go back to New York now." The three of them headed back for FAB1.

"You wouldn't loose this thing in a parking lot," Natasha said, as they climbed in.

"It was custom made," Penelope replied.

"Any special features installed?"

"The odd one or two," Penelope said, lightly. "I'm not one for gadgets, really."

* * *

They arrived back at the street where they had taken Natasha from that morning. 

"Once again, let me offer my sincere apologies, Ms Morgan-Evans," Penelope said.

"Just be glad that I won't sue," Natasha replied, curtly. She looked out onto the street, nervously.

"How will you deal with your workplace?" Penelope asked.

"I'll make something up," Natasha replied. "I must go."

"Are you sure you won't take up my offer of some sort of protection?" Penelope asked.

"Listen, if I'm in trouble, not even International Rescue could help me," Natasha replied. Both Penelope and Jeff stiffened at the mention of their organisation. Natasha got out of the car.

"They'd spot you a mile off in this thing anyway," she said, tapping the door. She looked beyond Penelope to Jeff, as if she wanted to say something, but then turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd once more.

"You were right, Penny. She's not Lucy," Jeff said.

"Of course not," Penelope agreed, relieved at that particular development.

"When we get back to the hotel, I'll contact Scott and tell him I'll be coming home," Jeff said. Penelope looked at him, puzzled.

"Don't you think that she was hiding something?"

"I don't care," Jeff said.

"I do. There's something not right here," Penelope said. Jeff shrugged.

"You can stay and investigate it further if you wish," he said. "If you'll excuse me, Penny, I think I'll make my own way back to the hotel."

"Jeff…" Penelope began, but Jeff had already let himself out of the Rolls. She watched as he too vanished into the busy mobs that bustled along the pavement, and let out a small sigh. Perhaps he would be fine after some air and a chance to mull over events. He was obviously upset that Natasha turned out not to be Lucy. Penelope allowed a thoughtful frown to cloud her face. Natasha had still recognised Jeff, and it had been in a way that wasn't the reaction of someone recognising a famous face. Penelope was truly bitten by the mystery bug now, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to rest until she found out who Natasha Morgan-Evans really was. Natasha had won the first battle, but Penelope was determined to win the war, with or without Jeff.


	10. Separate Ways

**Chapter Ten: Separate Ways**

Natasha walked blindly along the street, feeling an overwhelming mixture of emotions. She couldn't go into work today, despite that being her original plan upon leaving the pink Rolls Royce. Not when she felt like this. Occasionally, she gave a nervous glance over her shoulder. She hoped that nobody she knew had seen her being taken. They would ask questions as to why she hadn't turned up for work, but she would be able to feign some sort of illness. Even though that would probably mean being subject to another examination, since she wasn't supposed to get ill. She'd never even had a headache in her life, although somehow she knew what it felt like. Despite the fear for her welfare, Natasha couldn't help but be pleased that she had discovered more about him than he had about her. Jeff. She could finally put a name to the face. She had been married to him. Or rather, Lucy had been married to him. Lucy…Natasha wasn't her, yet she was. She knew she was…had been someone else. Yet she wasn't supposed to know this. She wasn't supposed to have any inclination to find out about the past, much less actually know about events that her previous existence had been through. She thought of Jeff again. Although she had been harsh in her words in order to protect herself, she had not wanted to hurt him. Something inside her had been telling her that it was all wrong, that she should be embracing him instead of pushing him away. It couldn't happen though. Especially since Jeff had been accompanied by that blonde English woman. She seemed to be someone who liked snooping around in places that she shouldn't. Who did she think she was? Some sort of secret agent? Though given that she had injected her with some kind of drug, it might not be too far from the truth.

Natasha drew in a nervous breath. Perhaps the blonde lady had known more than she had let on. Maybe someone had got wind of the project, and this lady had been sent to investigate further. If that was the case, those in charge ought to know about it. But if she mentioned it, it would lead to the discovery that she had been with Jeff. And despite giving them the information, they wouldn't hesitate to deal with her, even if she denied all knowledge of Jeff, they wouldn't be prepared to take the risk. Perhaps the best thing for her to do would be to try and lay low for a while. Hopefully that way she would avoid the blonde lady and her bizarre pink Rolls Royce. She would also avoid running into Jeff again. Then they would both be spared some pain.

* * *

Moving in the opposite direction to Natasha was Jeff. He was also deep in thought. All the hopes of the past few days or so had come crashing down within the space of a few minutes. He had always known since the start of this affair that it was a long shot that Lucy could somehow be alive, but everything had pointed to that being true. He had believed that Natasha was Lucy, right up to when she had woken up from the drug that Penelope had given her. The way that she had rejected him so strongly, after seemingly recognising him, had been an immense blow. She had spoken with a harsh, full, American accent, instead of Lucy's soft transatlantic tones, and that had added to the rapidly opening chasm between them as they had sat in the back of the Rolls Royce. When he had to explain things to her, it all suddenly seemed so silly, and he had further lost heart. He had looked into her eyes, expecting to see Lucy's soul trapped within, and instead had seen a stranger.

"You're a fool, Jeff," he muttered gruffly to himself. "A stupid old man who has one foot stuck in the past." He trudged along, trying to think ahead to when he returned to Tracy Island. Scott would no doubt be relieved to see him back home, as would the rest of his family, even though they believed that he was enjoying himself on a short break. Well, he'd better start work on a happy façade, else four of his five sons would start questioning what had happened to him on his vacation to make him so miserable. He passed by a newspaper stand, and glanced idly at the different titles on display.

"International Rescue saves 100s!" screamed the headline of one of the more tabloid offerings. Jeff managed a wry smile. It was an exaggeration by the paper, but his boys did no doubt save many lives yesterday when they received a call to assist in the aftermath of an earthquake in Turkey.

All by themselves.

The smile faded from his lips. He hadn't been there to guide them, yet they had coped just fine, just as they had done on previous rare occasions when he had left them, usually due to business commitments.

Without him.

Jeff looked back at the newspaper, and for the first time since he had started International Rescue, felt as if he were standing on the other side. It all suddenly seemed so distant. Like going to the moon did, ever since he had retired from being an astronaut. Like sharing a bed did, ever since Lucy had gone from his life. His sons were saving lives, and here he was chasing shadows of the past, like an idiot. Whoever that woman was, she hadn't been Lucy, and as far as he was concerned now, never had been. It didn't matter that Penny was now somehow convinced that there was some sort of bigger mystery, Jeff wanted nothing more to do with it. He continued on his journey of solitude, wrapped up in himself. He arrived back at the hotel, but instead of going to his room to make the call to Scott, he decided that there was no rush. He wasn't in the mood for Scott asking questions. Jeff turned away from the elevator, and instead made his way to the bar.

"A double scotch, please. The best you have."

* * *

Penelope looked at a small device in her hand and smiled to herself as she read the reading on it. Though Natasha may not have wanted their protection, she was going to get it. Penelope was determined that the russet-haired woman was not going to disappear again, either into a crowd or permanently, due to other means. She had attached a tiny bug onto Natasha whilst she had been drugged. It was the latest in a long line of technology that Brains had given her. If Brains was right, then the bug should not be detected or dislodged. Penelope had sat in FAB1, giving Natasha a chance to feel as if she had put some distance between herself and her would-be captors. After a few minutes, she had opened up the receiver, and discovered that Natasha was still moving away from them, apparently not showing any indication of going to work. Penelope had suspected that she probably wouldn't want to go there, at least, for today. She then decided that Natasha had had enough of a headstart, and instructed Parker to drive on. For about two hours, Natasha seemed to take a random path around the centre of New York, then the readings indicated that she was moving at speed, making Penelope assume that she had taken some form of transport. They followed the signal out of the main city and into a residential area, where the signal slowed down and then became static. Pleased, Penelope asked Parker to park the Rolls up out of sight. On foot, they had covered the last few hundred yards to the apartment building that the signal indicated Natasha was in. It was here that they now stood. Penelope pressed a couple of buttons on the receiver, so that the reading was further calibrated.

"Third floor, left hand side of the building, about half way along," she said.

"I 'ope that it's haccurate," Parker replied.

"I have every faith in the skills that Brains has," Penelope said. "Now, we need somewhere where you can keep an eye on the building."

"Hi should think that if we can get hon to the roof of that building next door, it should offer us a suitable viewpoint," Parker said. Penelope looked up at the building.

"Yes, I should think that it will do," she said. "Have you got everything?"

"Of course, Milady," Parker replied.

"Good. You get up onto the roof, and I shall go inside and attach the listening device to her apartment door. I'm guessing that she won't be out for a while," Penelope said.

"Very good, Ma'am," Parker said. They separated, Penelope using the tracking device to pinpoint the exact apartment that Natasha occupied, and Parker making his way onto the roof of the neighbouring building. Carefully, Penelope attached the listening device to one of the numbers on Natasha's front door. Any sound, and it could alert Natasha. The job done, she stole away down the passageway and back outside the building. She pressed the hidden button on her bracelet.

"Are you there, Parker?" she asked.

"Yes, Milady," he replied, after a couple of seconds.

"How does it look?"

"Quite good. I have an hexcellent view of the road from here."

"Are you picking up the device I installed on her front door?"

"I'm just sorting that out now, Ma'am." There was a pause as Parker made some adjustments. "Yes, I'm getting a clear signal."

"Good. Well, I will leave you to it for the moment. I must get back to Jeff."

"I hope that he 'asn't taken this morning's events too hard."

"I hope so too, Parker. That's why I must find him," Penelope said. "Now, contact me as soon as you suspect anything suspicious."

"I will do, Milady. I should think that hi'm prepared for any trouble," Parker replied, confidently.

"Take care," Penelope told him, and then made her way back to where her Rolls Royce was parked. She took a careful look around her surroundings. There was nothing suspicious to be seen. Satisfied, Penelope pressed the button that was the ignition for her car, and prepared to drive back towards the centre of New York.


	11. Drowning Sorrows

_Author's Note: Hello! I've finally managed to update this story after a shocking 22 months (looks at skeletons in the corner). I'm so sorry if you've been waiting so long for this story to be continued – I have had serious writer's block, I went travelling, my budgie died, etc…but enough of my excuses. Here are two chapters to go on with, and I promise not to leave it so long with the next update!_

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Drowning Sorrows**

Penelope arrived back at the hotel, generously tipping the parking valet as she entered the building. She was about to take the lift upstairs when something made her change her mind and instead she made a beeline for the bar area. There, a familiar figure was hunched over at the bar, scowling at nothing in particular. Penelope let out a small, short sigh and went and sat next to Jeff. He didn't acknowledge her, and she did not do anything to disturb him. The bartender came over to her and she quietly ordered a Pernod. Jeff knocked back the remains of his scotch and indicated that he wished for another. Penelope took a sip of her Pernod as she watched him unsteadily mutter to himself.

"How many?" she asked. He eyed her, seemingly annoyed at the interruption to his solitude of thought.

"Doesn't matter," he said after processing the question.

"I rather think that it does," Penelope replied. He simply grunted in reply and gratefully received his next drink. He took a swig.

"Well, let that be your last one, Jeff," Penelope said. "It's far too early in the day to be drowning your sorrows."

"And what would you know about my sorrows, Penny?" Jeff retorted. Penelope looked at him, patiently.

"Enough," she replied.

"No, no, no," Jeff said, at the same time shaking both his head and a finger. "No, you don't know. You don't know at all."

"I'd like you to explain, then," Penelope said.

"I don't have to explain anything to you," Jeff replied.

"Not usually you don't," agreed Penelope. "However, given recent events, I think that you need to talk."

"I thought you said that I did not have to discuss anything I was not comfortable with," he said, gruffly. Penelope did not reply to this, instead choosing to take another sip of Pernod. They sat in silence for a little while, Jeff lost in his hazy thoughts and Penelope happy to people-watch for as long as necessary.

"I suppose that you're not old enough to have regrets," Jeff said, breaking the peace.

"I believe that age has little to do with most things in life," Penelope replied. "But you are right in that I do not hold any serious compunction over my life - so far."

"Lucy never regretted anything, either," he mused. They lapsed into another silence. Penelope was glad to see that Jeff did not appear to want to order any more to drink. She looked at her own glass which was now roughly a quarter full. She had given herself the time that it took to drink the Pernod to get Jeff out of the bar and into his room. She needed to get things moving.

"Isn't it about time that you contacted Scott?" she asked.

"What for?" The blunt reply surprised her, but she was more than able to contain the emotion.

"Well, he'll want to know how you are, for a start." He simply grunted. She tried again.

"You'll need to tell him that you're planning to return home soon," she said.

"Boston," he said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Boston," he repeated. "I want to go to Boston." He began to look slightly agitated, as if trying to figure something out.

"I need my jet," he said to nobody in particular, and made to get off the bar stool. Penelope watched, both concerned and curious.

"I don't think that you're in the correct state of mind to fly a plane, Jeff," she said. He stopped and stared at her, as if wondering how she dare tell him what to do. Then he seemed to relent.

"We can take the Rolls," he said. "It won't take long in that, if Parker drives at top speed."

"I'm afraid that Parker is busy at the moment," Penelope replied. Her quick mind saw an opportunity.

"I'll take you to Boston, if that's where you really wish to go," she said. "On one condition."

"What's that?"

"You will go to your room and lie down for a couple of hours," she said, both gentle and firm at the same time.

"I need to go there now," he insisted. She looked him in the eye.

"Boston isn't going anywhere before the end of the day," she said. "And neither are you. Now, are we going to make a scene, or are we going to be sensible?" A slight arch of an eyebrow ended the sentence with a subtle but effective clout. Even when a little worse for wear, Jeff knew that there was a point where it was best to do as Lady Penelope suggested. He meekly allowed her to take his arm and guide him away to the elevators.

* * *

The afternoon passed by uneventfully. Parker heard nothing from Natasha's apartment except for the television and the usual sounds made by someone simply going about their business in their own home. He sighed as he peered once again over the edge of the roof of the building he was on, and saw nothing of interest on the street below. He looked at his watch. Hopefully Mr Tracy was not too distressed by Natasha's rejection. Suddenly Parker spotted a car pulling up outside of Natasha's apartment building. He watched as a man got out of the car and went inside the building. Years spent living amongst the criminal underworld had given Parker a good instinct for people, and he had a feeling that this man was about to pay Natasha a call. He adjusted the receiver in his ear in anticipation, and picked up the small transmitter. After a short pause, he heard the sound of someone knocking on Natasha's door. She didn't answer, and the knocking became more insistent.

"I know you're in there," the man's voice rasped over the receiver. There was still no answer.

"Answer the door!" There was still no answer. Parker heard the man mutter something to himself, though what exactly was lost beneath a rustling sound.

"So help me, Natasha, I'll blast your front door off and if I blast your head off in the process, well, it'll serve you right!" Finally there was the sound of footsteps, followed by the sound of the door being unlocked, opened and then shut again.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" the man's voice demanded.

"No need for that tone," Natasha replied.

"Don't tell me how I'm to speak to you," the man said.

"Or you'll do what? You're just someone who does all the running around. They'll have some serious questions for you if I'm harmed."

"You keep telling yourself that. You're not completely immune from being expendable."

"If that's the case, then why all the fuss?"

"You didn't report for work."

"I fancied a day off."

"Oh really?"

"I keep being told to blend into the wider community. So why not do what everybody else does once in a while?"

"Even if you did just decide to have a day off, you didn't report in. And since you don't get sick, there must be another reason for you not to turn up."

"Now we're going in circles."

"Give me a straight answer, dammit!"

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"Well, you can take your little charade to them, then."

"Get your hands off me!"

"I always said that you were trouble."

"And what gave you that impression?"

"You seem just a little too independent, if you ask me."

"I'm only following orders."

"Well, do yourself some good and do as I'm telling you to." Natasha didn't get a chance to reply as someone knocked on the door to her apartment.

* * *

Jeff groggily opened his eyes. Ugh. His mouth was dry and felt foul. He sat up slowly. Well, he appeared to be in his room at the hotel, but… He felt confused. What the heck was the time? It still appeared to be light outside, just about. How long had he been asleep? He was certain that he had been up this morning. He got up from the bed and wandered into the bathroom to splash some water over his face. He peered at his reflection, noticing for the first time the bags and dark circles and lines. Were they the result of the stress of the past few days or had he been developing them over a longer period of time? He did not get a chance to dwell on the matter, for a sound from the other room made him whip round.

"Hello?" He peered cautiously past the bathroom door.

"It's only me, Jeff." Penelope's voice came back to him. He breathed a sigh of relief and went through to the reception room. She was reading a magazine that she had picked up from somewhere and sipping a cup of tea.

"The tea is mine," she said, still looking at the magazine. "I always keep a box with me when I travel."

"I wouldn't have minded if you used mine," he said. She looked up at him.

"How do you feel?"

"I'd rather not think about it," he replied, going to pour himself a lemonade. He sat down opposite her, remembering now the events of the day so far with a degree of shame.

"Penny, I'm sorry if I came across as being an asshole," he said. She smiled at him.

"Oh, I've seen worse," she said.

"Really?" Jeff was both surprised and intrigued. She waved her hand, dismissively.

"Youthful indiscretions, amongst other things," she said, and changed the subject. "Parker is keeping an eye on Natasha at the moment."

"Oh." Jeff's mood dropped slightly.

"You're still sure that there is nothing here to investigate?" Penelope asked.

"Quite sure," Jeff replied, brusquely. Then his expression softened. "Truthfully, Penny, I don't know. I know that she isn't Lucy, however much I wanted her to be. Yet at the same time, I know without a shadow of a doubt that physically, she looks like Lucy and it goes beyond being a coincidental likeness."

"Was there anything that she said to you, no matter how small, that could provide a clue?"

"No, nothing," Jeff said. He frowned, recalling the conversation that morning. San Diego…Florida… She said that she had been born in Florida…

"How the hell did I miss that?" he said, out loud.

"Jeff?" Penelope looked at him. Jeff got out of his seat, suddenly looking more animated than he had done since their encounter with Natasha.

"She said that she was born in Florida in the year 2000," he said, gesturing with a hand. "We were still in Florida then."

"It seems an odd piece of information to divulge," Penelope said. "Unless she wanted you to investigate matters further."

"And I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to notice," Jeff said, with a shake of his head. Penelope rose from her chair too.

"I take it that this means you'll be staying here for a little while longer?"

"You bet."

"Good. Mysteries are always much more fun to solve when you have a friend working with you."


	12. Back in the Hunt

**Chapter Twelve: Back in the Hunt**

"Hello father. I was beginning to wonder if I'd hear from you."

"I'm surprised that you noticed. I hear that you've been quite busy yourself."

"Oh, sure. But nothing we couldn't handle." Scott sat back in the chair as he talked to his father. "So how are things going in New York?"

"Interesting," Jeff replied. "First things first, the lady is not your mother."

"You found her?" Scott sounded astonished.

"Yes."

"So who is she then?"

"Natasha Morgan-Evans, as her AIDD profile stated."

"But Dad… I saw the printout. For all intents and purposes, she was Mom. You were right in that respect."

"I know, Scott. But once she started talking, I knew that she wasn't. I was going to come home."

"But?" Scott was relieved that his father had seen sense over at least one issue, however he knew that there was something else coming.

"Lady Penelope believes that there is something here worth looking into. So do I now. I'll be staying in New York for a while longer," Jeff said.

"How much longer?"

"I'm not sure. Our information so far suggests that we may be travelling to Florida at some point."

"Florida? What exactly do you think you've uncovered?"

"We don't know."

"Sounds like you've still got a long way to go then."

"Yes. We're about to contact Parker and go and see Natasha again."

"Is there anything I can do this end?"

"Not yet, Scott. This is still my investigation. I don't wish for any of you to be dragged into things," Jeff said, adamantly.

"Okay Dad. But don't hesitate to give us a shout if you change your mind."

"Will do, son."

"Well, I guess I'll let you get on with things," Scott said. Jeff nodded.

"I'll be in touch," he said and then ended the communication. He went to the door of his room to go and collect Penelope, but she got to him first.

"What's the matter?" he asked, noticing that she looked unusually perturbed.

"I can't make contact with Parker," she said.

* * *

Back on Tracy Island, Scott was mulling over the latest turn of events. He hadn't really had the time to think too much about his father over the past twenty four hours, with the latest major rescue requiring his attention. All was quiet at the moment however, including the Tracy household. Alan and Tin-Tin had taken a trip to the mainland – for shopping, they claimed – whilst Gordon was doing a spot of diving. Virgil was doing some routine maintenance on his beloved Thunderbird Two along with Brains. Grandma and Kyrano were probably out fussing over the gardens. Scott was glad to see his grandmother occupied with some task rather than sitting fretting over her only precious son. He knew that part of her worry had been quelled when she found out that Lady Penelope was at Jeff's side. He went and dug out the AIDD printout from a locked box in his bedroom. He was relieved in more ways than one at the news that this woman was definitely not his mother. Although his father was clearly determined to get to the bottom of things, at least he was chasing a more straightforward mystery and not a ghost.

Also, Scott hadn't really been sure how he himself would react if suddenly confronted with his dead mother. He knew of course how her death had affected his father. But having had a little time to dwell on the matter himself, Scott was also drawn back to some long-buried feelings and memories. He remembered running from the room after his father had told him the news, wanting to get away from everyone. His initial reaction had been anger. How could his mother be so selfish as to leave them all? Why did she die whilst Gordon and Alan escaped relatively unscathed from the accident? Most of the anger was his own sense of guilt – all he had been interested in was getting to his baseball game that morning, rather than paying her any attention. And of course he then also felt guilty for feeling angry at her, therefore entering a vicious circle that took him some time to escape from. He supposed that that was one of the reasons he threw himself into helping out with his younger brothers. As the eldest, he'd always been expected to help his parents. He was also a natural leader. Yet he had sensed the almost immediate change in his father, and intuitively felt that it would be best if he could keep his brothers out of their father's way. At the end of the day, it had been something that he hadn't minded – and still didn't. He looked at the printout once more before placing it back in his box and wondered for how much longer he would have to keep the true nature of his father's trip from John, Gordon and Alan.

* * *

Penelope sat at the wheel of FAB1, trying every frequency that could possibly be generated from the equipment in the car. There was still no response from Parker. Jeff joined her in the front passenger seat.

"I take it that you're still unable to get through?"

"Yes. I've tried everything that I can think of," Penelope replied. She pulled at her seatbelt and Jeff did the same thing with his.

"I'm sure that he's all right," Jeff said. "It's probably just a malfunction."

"A malfunction with all of his communication devices?" Penelope retorted, a little incredulously. She took a small breath and returned to her usual mask of coolness.

"You are right, Jeff. I'm sure that Parker is just fine. He is more than capable of taking care of himself," she said, though Jeff couldn't help but think that she was telling that to herself as much as him. He did not comment on it though. She would not welcome an overload of sympathetic reassurances any more than he would.

"How far away is Natasha's apartment?"

"About forty-five minutes," Penelope replied. She started the Rolls Royce up and eased it into the traffic on the main road outside the hotel. Jeff offered to keep trying to contact Parker whilst Penelope drove. The attempts were unsuccessful right up to when they pulled up in front of Natasha's apartment building.

"We'll go to her apartment first," Penelope said. She checked to see that her small handgun was safe in her handbag. After securing the Rolls, she and Jeff made their way into the building. Cautiously, Jeff knocked on Natasha's door. He pressed his ear to the door, but could hear nothing. He looked at Penelope.

"I'll try the handle," she said, having already pulled on a pair of black leather gloves. The door opened. Penelope readied her handgun and the two stepped carefully into the apartment. It was empty. Jeff closed the door as Penelope began hunting for clues. The first thing to catch her eye was a crushed digiphone. She picked it up.

"Oh Parker," she sighed. "I told you to contact me if there was trouble." She looked at Jeff. "I don't see any signs of a struggle, but obviously Parker felt inclined to act quickly on something."

"There must be something here that will lead us to both Natasha and Parker. We must assume that they are together," Jeff said. Penelope nodded.

"You search in here, and I'll look in the bedroom," she said. Jeff began looking though a small pile of papers on top of a desk. There was nothing of interest there. Penelope did not have much more luck in the bedroom. She moved to the bathroom. Again, the possessions were neat but sparse. She glanced over at the toothbrush in its holder, and had an idea. She pulled out one of her supply of little evidence bags that she carried around and popped the toothbrush inside. Then she put it away securely in her handbag and went back to see Jeff.

"Any luck?" she asked.

"No. There's nothing. Even her social security number seems to be non existent," Jeff replied. He looked around the apartment. "She doesn't seem to keep much of anything."

"I'd agree," Penelope said. "She's been very well trained to cover her tracks."

"Do you think that she kidnapped Parker?" Jeff asked.

"I would doubt that, Jeff," Penelope replied. "No, there are greater powers at work here. I think that we may be forced to ask other people for help."

"Such as?" Jeff wasn't sure if he liked that suggestion, but now that Parker appeared to be in danger he knew that this matter wasn't just about himself any more.

"I have my contacts," Penelope said. "Don't you have someone covering this area?"

"I do, but I'm not sure if they'd be suitable for this. He's more of an engineer than an investigative agent."

"He surely must have more qualities about him than simply being an engineer," Penelope replied. "Look at your hillbilly friend. His style might not have been conventional, but it was effective."

"Yes…well, Jeremiah is certainly unique," Jeff agreed. "Although I would say that you are not the conventional agent yourself." Penelope seemed a little cheered by this comment, for she smiled at him.

"Why, thank you, Jeff," she said. "Returning to the matter at hand, since you are reluctant to involve any more members of International Rescue, I shall start liaisoning with my contacts in the New York area."

"Do you know anyone down in Florida?"

"No, I don't," Penelope replied. "How about you?"

"Well, I suppose there are people at NASA and the World Space Agency," Jeff said, thoughtfully. "I still deal with some of them in regards to the aerospace side of Tracy Industries. I could set up a meeting with one of them under those pretences and see where I go from there."

"How high up can you go?"

"With the aerospace stuff, I can meet with fairly senior people."

"Perhaps if they heard that Jeff Tracy was coming in person for a visit, the top brass might be very interested," Penelope said.

"Perhaps," Jeff agreed. Penelope took a look around her.

"Well, I think that there is nothing more for us here," she said. She rummaged around in her handbag and produced a skeleton key.

"We'll lock up as we leave," she said. "You never know, we might have a reason to return. And it's only fair to Natasha to secure her home."

"Certainly," Jeff said. They left the apartment, closing the door quietly behind them and set off to begin the next part of their adventure.

* * *

In a dimly lit room that could have been anywhere on the planet, a figure lying in a corner stirred slightly at the sound of voices not too far away. 


	13. Interrogation

**Chapter Thirteen – Interrogation**

It had seemed like the right thing to do – help a young lady who seemed about to get herself into a spot of bother. He knew that 'er Ladyship had ordered him to contact her should things get interesting; nevertheless he had decided that there had been no time to waste. So he had gone to the apartment, posing as a salesman. However, the fellow with Natasha did not have much in the way of patience, and so Parker found himself looking down the barrel of a gun. Having been out of options at that point, Parker had no choice other than to follow the man's orders and get into the back of the car, along with Natasha, who had kept silent. As soon as they were seated, restraints appeared out of nowhere, holding their hands to their sides. Even as Parker opened his mouth to protest, a mask clamped onto his face and some kind of gas knocked both him and Natasha out.

The next thing Parker became aware of were shadows flitting against a wall. It took him a moment to realise that the shadows were caused by some people standing not too far away, holding a conversation. Pretending to still be unconscious, Parker lay still, straining his ears to try and pick up any useful information.

"Well, I couldn't get anything out of her." It was the chap with no patience.

"They will." The second voice had a crisper, businesslike edge to it.

"Stubborn little bitch," Impatient said, sourly.

"She's very tenacious, yes. Perhaps that is why she's one of only three primaries left," Business replied.

"She's been lucky," Impatient scoffed.

"Natasha is very smart," said a third, well-spoken voice.

"They're all smart," Business said.

"Of course, but Natasha came from a good source," Posh replied. "A rather interesting one, too, as it happens. But her background is not really your concern."

"I'm stung," Impatient retorted. "So what do we do with Bozo in the corner?"

"He'll have to stay here for the moment," Business said. "What did you think you were doing, bringing him along?"

"I had no choice," Impatient said. "It was either that, or shoot him point blank. Geesh, the guy wouldn't shut up."

"I'd be interested in finding out some more about him," Posh said. "He may be useful."

"Doubt it. Couldn't understand a damn word that came out of his mouth," Impatient said. "I think he's French or something."

"Nationality makes no difference to me," Posh replied. There was a pause, then the sound of rustling. Business spoke.

"Here's your payment. And stay low for a bit."

"Yeah, sure." Impatient sounded as if he had no intention of doing so. There were the sound of footsteps and a door opening and closing.

"He's a liability," Posh said.

"Torres is small time," Business replied.

"It's the small ones who make the big mistakes," Posh answered, suddenly not sounding quite as amiable as before.

"I'll make sure that he's dealt with," Business said.

"Good," Posh replied. "Now, go and wake our new friend in the corner."

"Another problem we didn't need," Business grumbled, his voice getting louder as he approached Parker, who did a good impression of waking up as Business shook him by the shoulder. He sat up, getting his first look at the men whose conversation he had been covertly listening to. Business was not quite as old as Parker had first thought. He appeared to be in his mid forties, with salt and pepper hair, and was what the ladies would describe as being ruggedly handsome, although Parker did not particularly like the flint-like look of his pale blue eyes.

"Hi trust that you're going to hexplain to me what I might be doing in your company?" Parker asked, deciding to play dumb.

"Yes. I must apologise for the actions of my colleague," Business said.

"Hi should think so," Parker said. "Hi could sue, you know. Wrongful imprisonment and kidnapping, for a start."

"There's going to be no need for that," Business said. "Come, let's get you a drink."

"Hi'd rather be on my way," Parker said. "Hi've got targets to meet. My boss doesn't happreciate tardiness." He allowed himself to be shown to a table, where Posh was skulking.

"I see that you're not French," he said to Parker, as Business disappeared out of the room.

"Certainly not," Parker replied, indignantly. "What gave you that idea?" Posh didn't answer him. He was older than Business, looking to be nearing sixty. He was very tall but very thin and seemed to Parker that one well-aimed kick would snap him in half. At first glance, he came across as being less callous than Business. However, Parker did not feel any more inclined to trust him.

"May I ask what you 'ave done with the young lady hi was with?"

"She's fine. I can assure you that she will not come to any harm," Posh told him.

"Hi wish hi could believe you," Parker said.

"You'll have to take my word for it," Posh said.

"That's a little difficult when one 'as been forcibly taken at gunpoint, hand continues to be held 'ostage," Parker replied. "You see my point, don't you?"

"Yes, of course. However, I'd like to ask you some questions."

"Such as?"

"Well, I'm curious. You claimed to be a salesperson, yet we could not track you down through the AIDD system. This would mean that you are not an American citizen and therefore should not be employed."

"Hi'm on a visitor's working visa."

"I don't think so somehow. Besides the AIDD discrepancy, you were not carrying any items usual of a salesperson."

"Hi like to travel light. Hi'm not a young fellow, much has I would like to be again." Parker looked suitably forlorn. Posh let out a chuckle.

"Okay, I see that I need to be a bit more direct. Have you ever seen Natasha before today?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Hi'd remember a pretty face such as hers, for certain."

"Who do you work for?"

"Hi work for myself."

"Doing what?"

"This and that. Hi is a bit of a Jack of all trades."

"What brings you to the States?"

"Friendly business."

"With whom?"

"Begging your pardon, Sir, but where hi come from, hit is not considered good manners to pry into hanother man's personal matters."

"You're not in your country now."

"That is quite obvious." The interrogation was interrupted by Business coming back with a glass of water, which he placed in front of Parker.

"For you," he said. Parker peered at the glass suspiciously.

"How do I know that you 'ave not contaminated this water?" Business sighed impatiently.

"Here," he said, picking up the glass and then taking a sip. He placed the glass back down. After carefully checking to see that Business was not showing any ill effects, Parker also took a sip. Business turned to Posh.

"How are you getting on with our friend?"

"Just fine," Posh replied.

"Hi beg to differ," Parker said. "Hi don't happreciate being interrogated like some lowlife criminal. You are not the police and hi 'ave not done anything wrong."

"You are quite right," Posh said.

"So hi can go now?" Parker asked, hopefully. Posh glanced up to Business and then back to Parker.

"Not just yet. I need to have a word with my colleague first."

"Fine. Do has you please," Parker huffed. "Hi mean, it's not has if hi 'ave anything better to do now, is it?" He pretended to sulk as Posh and Business left the room. He sat back in the chair and contemplated his position. They had not yet discovered the receiver hidden behind his ear, so that may have a use at some point, although he had no means now of outbound communication. It might be irrelevant, anyway, though Parker doubted that they were about to let him walk out the door. These chaps were definitely into the same sort of murky affair that Natasha was caught up in. He wondered what had happened to the young lady and was genuinely concerned as to her welfare. She might have been very odd – aside from looking like Mr Tracey's dead wife – but she did not appear to have been a bad person. Parker had known some very unsavoury types during his life, and she had not been like that. He decided that Natasha should be his priority, whatever fate those two characters outside were plotting for him. After some minutes, they came back in.

"We have a proposition for you," Business said.

"Hi'm listening."

"You mentioned in our discussion that you wished you were a younger man again," Posh said.

"Yes." Parker was uncertain as to where they were going with this.

"What if I said that I was able to make that happen?"

"You're pulling my leg."

"I can assure you that I'm not," Posh said.

"Well, hi know that hi'm not the most 'andsom fellow, but hi don't really want any surgery."

"No surgery required," Posh said.

"Are you saying that you 'ave discovered a fountain of youth?"

"Yes and no. More will be revealed if you're interested in my proposition." Posh sat back and folded his arms expectantly. Business simply stood looking enigmatic. Parker knew an opportunity when he saw one, even if what he had in mind was not on the same wavelength as Posh and Business. He looked hard at Business and then at Posh.

"So, what's in it for me, then?"

Elsewhere in the building, Natasha was enjoying a little more freedom – in relative terms. They had questioned her relentlessly, but she had given nothing away. She knew though, that they were not satisfied. She shuddered slightly. That probably meant they would be planning some sort of hardball interrogation. She'd heard stories about what that involved. Some of the others had called it Room 101, a reference to Nineteen Eighty-Four, by George Orwell. Natasha had never read the book personally, but Lucy had at some point and now Natasha recalled it perfectly. Room 101 contained the worst thing in the world. She pondered the book some more. Big Brother. To one generation, it was the name of some sort of reality television show, a genre popular in the early years of the century. Most never even realised that the basis of the show lay in Orwell's novel. To Natasha, the term represented something far more real and frightening than people parading around for the cameras in an artificial environment. Lucy had been a person who had little time for conspiracy theories, but Natasha could well believe those Lone Gunmen types. For as far as she was concerned, Big Brother was real.


	14. Old Enemy, Old Friend

**Chapter Fourteen – Old Enemy, Old Friend**

Penelope let out a small sigh as she ended the phone call. The first contact with her connections had not produced anything useful either in tracking down Parker and Natasha or finding out more about what Natasha was involved in. However, her associates had promised to do a little digging around. One had his own connections in certain places, which would hopefully turn something up. Meanwhile, Jeff was making some progress with his old associates down in Florida. He came over to Penelope.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"I made a start," she replied. "Yourself?"

"A visit to Florida would coincide with a test of some new shuttle technology and the WSA would be delighted to have me present," Jeff said. Penelope smiled.

"That's great. When are you leaving?"

"As soon as possible. Do you want to come along?"

"No, Jeff. I should remain here," Penelope said. "If any news comes through about either Parker or Natasha, I can act on it quickly."

"Yes, of course," Jeff said. He opened up a palm sized electronic organiser and tapped away on it for a few moments before putting it away in his pocket.

"I should go and make the necessary arrangements for travelling down to Florida," he said.

"I will give you a hand," said Penelope.

"No need," Jeff replied.

"I insist," Penelope said. "I have nothing else to attend to at the moment." Jeff gave in with a slight lopsided grin.

"Okay, Penny. I suppose that the sooner I get down there, the better."

Three hours later, and Jeff was back at the private airfield on the outskirts of New York City, ready to fly down to Florida in his jet. Penelope was not there to see him off. Jeff had remembered another possible source of help, and had asked Penelope to follow it up. He performed the final checks on his aircraft and then contacted the control tower to say that he was ready to go. Seconds later, he was given clearance and he steered the jet to the runway. He engaged the engines and sent the aircraft racing down the tarmac and up into the skies. Once at a cruising altitude, Jeff let out a sigh. Something about flying relaxed him. In his jet, he was in complete control, with nobody to intrude on his thoughts or decisions. He hoped that Penelope would be successful in finding Parker and Natasha. He also hoped that she wouldn't get herself into trouble whilst he was in Florida. Penny was more than capable of taking care of herself and even with Parker missing she would keep her cool. Jeff already felt bad for Parker's disappearance, but if anything happened to Penelope because of this venture… He knew that nothing would ever make him forgive himself.

* * *

She wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed. It was probably less than she thought it was. They had kept her supplied with food and water and even a few magazines, which she flicked through idly, not really caring about Britney Spears' seventh wedding or any other leftover celebrity from a bygone era. The public these days still worshipped their favourite singers or actors and became victims of the odd craze, but the face of modern celebrity was much different. Gone were the days where people became famous on the back of nothing in particular. People today appreciated achievement and genuine talent, not how much flesh someone could flash or how they spent their superstar boyfriend's money or who they slept with. Her head snapped up as the sound of the lock disengaging caught her attention. The door opened and a tall, thin man stepped into the room.

"Hello Natasha. How are you today?" The pleasantness of his well-spoken voice did not quite make it to his eyes. Natasha got to her feet, on her guard. She was always on her guard with him.

"What do you want?"

"As charming as ever, I see."

"The same could be said of you, Blalock."

"That's _Doctor_ Blalock, Ms Morgan-Evans."

"You're not a doctor." Natasha stared icily at Blalock, who gave an unpleasant chuckle.

"Of course I am. Doctors help make people better. I make people better. You're better, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't know," Natasha replied. "Though I suppose that I could have been a serial killer, or God forbid, your mother. Actually, that wouldn't surprise me. You probably sold her somewhere down the line…" She was cut off by Blalock's hand striking her hard across the cheek.

"Enough of your insolence," he hissed, as she took a step backwards to regain her balance.

"Go to hell," she retorted, doing her best to ignore the stinging in the left side of her face.

"If you don't keep your mouth shut, that's exactly where I'll be sending you," Blalock said. Natasha just glowered back at him. He took a moment to compose himself and then spoke again in his usual calm, well-spoken manner.

"You're needed," he told her.

"What for?"

"A little experiment."

"What sort of experiment?"

"You're about to find out," Blalock said. He looked to the doorway. Natasha followed his gaze and saw two burly men step through it. She looked back to Blalock, whose face once again bore a cold smile.

"It's your choice, Natasha. We can make this simple, or we can make this difficult. What's it going to be?" Natasha regarded him for a moment.

"Go to hell," she said.

* * *

Penelope smiled sweetly at the receptionist.

"I can assure you that this is quite urgent business," she said.

"They all say that," the receptionist replied.

"Could you at least tell him that there's somebody here on behalf of Jeff Tracy?" Penelope asked. "If he does not wish to know, then I shall leave. I believe that he should be free to make up his own mind?" Her blue eyes bore just enough flint in them to tell the receptionist that the quickest way to get rid of the aristocratic blonde lady would be to follow her suggestion. With a sigh, the receptionist picked up a phone and spoke a few words into it. After a couple of minutes she replaced the phone on the hook and looked at Penelope. Although her voice was contrite, her eyes were hard.

"You may see him, although time will be limited. He is working, after all."

"I understand that he is a busy man. I shall be succinct in outlining Mr Tracy's proposal," Penelope replied, pleasantly. The receptionist gave Penelope a visitor's security tag before she entered the elevator and travelled to the appropriate floor. Once there, she saw another receptionist who was a little friendlier than her colleague. Penelope took a seat as instructed, and settled into one of her favourite pastimes of people watching. After about ten minutes, she heard a male voice.

"Ms Creighton-Ward?"

"Yes, that's me," Penelope answered, rising out of her seat and offering a hand, which her companion took.

"Tom Delaney," he said, introducing himself. He indicated that they should go somewhere quieter. Penelope followed him into a small side room.

"Can I get you a coffee?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine for refreshments," Penelope said. Tom nodded.

"So, you're here on behalf of Jeff Tracy." It was more a statement of bemusement than a question.

"Yes, I am."

"Well, I admit that I'm quite surprised. I haven't seen Jeff for years. Not since his wife passed away, actually." His face grew sad at the latter sentence, but then he seemed to shrug it off. "What do I owe the pleasure now?"

"It's quite a delicate matter," Penelope said. "Mr Tracy and I are looking into the disappearance of an employee of ours."

"Forgive me, but isn't that the domain of the police?"

"Usually, it would be, however these are exceptional circumstances," Penelope said. "We understand that our colleague's apparent kidnapping is related in some manner to Lucy Tracy." As the words left her mouth, Tom looked as if he'd been electrocuted.

"Lucy? How the hell does she come into this?"

"We're not certain," Penelope answered. "What we are certain of is that there is a rather murky affair of some type taking place in and around New York. We're looking for help in investigating it and Mr Tracy thought of you. He said that you and the late Mrs Tracy once worked together for a time and were friends. I believe that is why he feels he can reach out to you." Tom sat back in his chair.

"Yes, Lucy and I were friends," he said. He shook his head slightly. "Boy, was Jeff jealous… Well, that's all irrelevant now. Ancient history. What matters is the present. What does Jeff want from me?"

"I would be right in believing that you are a rather esteemed journalist?" Penelope asked.

"Well, I'm still in a job," Tom replied. Penelope continued.

"Mr Tracy would appreciate it if you could do some quiet asking around," she said, and handed him a picture of Parker. "This is our missing employee. We're also interested in activity at this address below."

"That's the address of governmental offices," Tom said.

"I know," Penelope said. "What we don't know is what the office is for, and what the role of this woman is." She gave him the AIDD printout of Natasha. Tom frowned.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"I can assure you that it is not, Mr Delaney. We have been in contact with that lady before she too disappeared and we are certain that she's not Lucy Tracy," Penelope said.

"Damn straight that's not Lucy," Tom said. He stood up. "I really don't see what you're trying to achieve here, Ms Creighton-Ward, and I have serious work about real issues to get on with."

"This is very real," Penelope said.

"I can't be of help," Tom replied, abruptly. He opened the door of the room and Penelope rose, reluctantly.

"Thank you for your time," she said.

"Please make sure that you don't waste any more of it in the future," Tom said. "And if you really do work for Jeff Tracy, say hi for me."

"I'll be certain to pass the message on," Penelope said. She retreated to the elevator. It was only after she had gone that Tom realised that he still had the photographs and address she had given him in his hand. His first thought was to throw them in the bin, but then someone caught his attention and he absent-mindedly stuffed them into his pocket, completely forgetting the conversation he had just had.

* * *

Elsewhere, screams echoed down an empty corridor. 


	15. Understanding

**Chapter Fifteen - Understanding**

"I don't like it. I really don't."

"He'll be fine, Grandma."

"I thought that Lady Penelope was supposed to be keeping an eye on him?"

"She still is. She wouldn't have let Dad go to Florida if she thought that it wasn't worth it."

"I wish that he'd just left well alone." Josie Tracy shook her head as she prepared vegetables for the evening meal. "He's literally looking for trouble."

"He needs to do this," Scott replied.

"Do what? He solved his mystery. He realised that the woman he saw wasn't your mother – which we already knew - and that should have been the end of the matter."

"If that was all there was to it, yes. But there's more. Dad's a problem solver and he's not going to give up until he finds the solution." Scott's calmness was a contrast to his grandmother's agitation. She added the vegetables to the large casserole dish.

"Well, at least he's out from behind his desk," she said, trying to put a positive spin on her fears.

"That's the spirit," Scott said. Josie did not look spirited. Rather, she looked at her eldest grandson, her sky blue eyes unhappy.

"When are you going to tell your brothers the truth?"

"I don't know," Scott admitted. "I guess it depends on what happens with Dad. And I think telling them will cause headaches that we don't need at the moment."

"Why do you think that, Scott?"

"John adored mom, remember? If all of this has been hard on me and Virg, it'll kill him."

"What about Gordon and Alan? They don't remember your mother."

"That's what bothers me. I've absolutely no idea how they'd react. Neither of them talks about mom much – not to me, anyway. Gordon will probably take it in his stride, I guess. But Alan… Alan I just got this real bad feeling about."

"I could talk to him," Josie said. She adored all of her grandsons, but Alan had a special place in her heart, being the baby of the family.

"No," Scott said. "I encouraged Dad to take the steps that has led to this adventure of his; I should take responsibility for any fallout. If it comes to it, I'll tell Alan. I'll tell all of them." His grandmother squeezed his arm.

"Hopefully this will all be wrapped up shortly and your father can tell them himself," she said.

"I hope so too," Scott replied.

* * *

Thousands of miles away in sunny Florida, Jeff was completely unaware of the consternation of his mother and eldest son. Instead, he was making his way to the Kennedy Space Centre to meet up with an old associate of his. Jeff sat back in his seat, watching the passing scenery. He associated Florida more with his profession than anything else. Here, he had enjoyed the height of his career as an astronaut, which peaked with him being the first man to step back on the moon in some three decades. Back then, it was simply him, Lucy and Scott until Virgil joined them in the August of 1999. Just over a year later, Jeff had quit his active space career, deciding instead to focus on building what was, in those days, a small aerospace company and the family had moved north to settle in Boston. Their time in Florida might have been short, but it had been happy and Jeff had always enjoyed making business trips to the Sunshine State in order to do business with contacts at NASA and the WSA.

Today though, the memories were a little soured by the thought that something untoward had gone on behind the scenes, that someone had seemingly used Lucy as an unwitting pawn in their plans. If what Natasha said about her birthplace was true, then Florida was the place where this whole affair had begun, the place where she held a direct connection to Lucy. And as Jeff knew well, there was no better place to start than at the beginning.

* * *

Elsewhere, in a windowless room, Parker sat eating a small meal. They seemed to be treating him a little better, giving him somewhere to freshen up and take a nap, meals and even newspapers to read. The courtesy had not yet extended as far as his free movement. It had been three days since he and Natasha had been made guests of these mysterious people and Parker was still not really any wiser as to what they wanted with him. All Posh – Doctor Blalock – had told him was that he, Parker, was going to be very important to the future of Blalock's consortium, because Parker was going to succeed where others had not. He had placed Parker into the care of two of his assistants, who performed what seemed to be some sort of routine medical examination. Parker submitted to the tests, still deciding that cooperation was still the best option. He answered questions succinctly, not giving anything away, but not giving a reason for the assistants, or Blalock, to make deeper queries. When asked his name, Parker had responded with, "Fred Peabody". There was no story behind the pseudonym. Over the years, his mind had become adept at creating false identities on a whim.

The other man Parker had encountered, the one he called Business, had disappeared not long after Parker's interrogation. Parker had no idea where or why he had to go, and in a way, he didn't really care. It was one less person to deal with. Besides, Parker was certain that Blalock would be easier to get talking to, easier to try and build up some sort of trust with – as far as Blalock could be trusted, which Parker suspected, wasn't very much. Still, Parker prided himself on being able to obtain information from anybody if he was given enough of a chance to worm his way into their confidence. He finished his meal, and was just about to put his feet up and finish his newspaper when he heard the sound of the door unlocking. He put the paper aside and stood. He was unsurprised to see that his visitor was Blalock.

"Mr Peabody."

"Hi was never one for formalities. Call me Fred," Parker replied, with an edge of geniality. Blalock smiled his humourless smile.

"Very well then, Fred. But I'd prefer Doctor Blalock if it's all the same to you."

"Suit yourself," Parker shrugged. "How may hi be of assistance?"

"Oh, I'm not paying a house call for business purposes," Blalock said. "I thought that you might like a walk."

"That would be much happreciated, Doctor," Parker said. "Hi'd like the opportunity to learn more habout this consortium of yours. You know, clarifying my role since it's of such himportance to you."

"All in good time," Blalock said, showing Parker out of the door. "I think that first you'd like to be reintroduced to somebody."

"Miss Natasha?" Blalock chuckled in a manner that made Parker feel inclined to want to call upon his old boxing skills.

"You guessed correctly," the doctor said.

"Hi trust that she's well?"

"I wouldn't make you talk to a corpse," Blalock replied. Parker thought of Mr Tracy's conviction that Natasha was identical to his dead wife, but wisely kept his mouth shut on the subject. The two men exchanged no further words until they reached their destination. Blalock unlocked the door and ushered Parker in. Natasha was reclining on the bed, but scrambled to her feet when she saw Parker.

"You," was all she said.

"I thought that you both could do with some company," Blalock said.

"That's very generous of you," Natasha said, flatly. Blalock gave her a somewhat smug look before leaving her alone with Parker.

"I'm surprised to see you," Natasha said. "I see that you've met the good doctor."

"Hi don't know if I'd describe him as good," Parker replied.

"You'd be right there," said Natasha, sitting back down on the bed, somewhat stiffly. Parker sat on a chair.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She seemed a little distant, but a moment later she shook back her russet hair and looked at Parker with renewed energy. "I should thank you for what you tried to do."

"No need. Hi'm sorry that it didn't turn out 'as hexpected," replied Parker. Natasha's mouth tugged up at the corners.

"You're a real Cockney," she said. Parker looked impressed.

"You 'ave a better brain than that feller who kidnapped us," he said. "He thought hi was French."

"Doesn't surprise me. Torres is an idiot."

"Was an idiot," Parker said. Natasha looked back at him but then gave a half shrug.

"They don't like imperfections around here."

"Well, hi'm surprised that they're keeping me around then," Parker said. "Hi is the picture of himperfection." Natasha smiled again, a little more broadly.

"I won't hold that against you… I'm sorry. I don't recall your name."

"Peabody. Fred Peabody."

"You don't look like a Fred."

"You don't look much like a Natasha." Parker's reply made Natasha draw back a little.

"People get things into their heads, I guess," she said carefully, a slight quirk of an eyebrow telling Parker that they shouldn't get onto that particular subject. For his part, Parker had no intention of openly discussing their earlier meeting with Lady Penelope and Mr Tracy. Blalock's apparently cordial gesture could be a genuine act, or it could just be an attempt to eavesdrop for holes in Parker's story.

"Hi wish that I could get it into my 'ed what hi is still doing here," Parker said. "Doctor Blalock said that hi was himportant, but hi sees no evidence of that."

"Blalock likes his secrets," Natasha replied. She gave Parker an odd look that seemed almost sad. Again, it was quickly covered up.

"Do you know how long hi can be expected to be kept here?" Parker asked.

"Have they given you what appears to have been a medical?"

"Has a matter of fact, they 'ave."

"When?"

"A few days ago."

"Oh." Natasha frowned slightly. "I'd have thought that you'd be free to go by now."

"Perhaps there are some paperwork issues," Parker said. "Hi'm sure that you can understand how I'm finding this all rather confusing. Hi'm just a salesman hafter all. Perhaps you can fill me in. You seem acquainted with Doctor Blalock."

"Let's just say that I work for him," Natasha said.

"Doing what?"

"Research." She appeared to lean forward in a casual gesture, but she looked him carefully in the eye. "I used to work in New York, as part of a governmental science project."

"I see," Parker said, also carefully. "Hi 'ad a cousin who was into the sciences. What discipline did you study?"

"Mostly biology related subjects. You know, physiology, genetics, that sort of thing. Not very interesting."

"Hi'm sure that some people would disagree there," Parker said. "Hi think I'll stick to doing odd jobs."

"What sort of jobs?"

"Oh, hi think I've managed to 'ave a go at most things in my life," Parker replied. "Hi've even worked for 'er Majesty. 'Course, that was a long time ago."

"You look like you've known aristocracy," Natasha commented. "It's in the way you carry yourself."

"Hi don't think that hi'll see those days again henytime soon," Parker said, and heaved a carefully tuned sigh. He looked at Natasha and an understanding flashed between them. They were going to work very well together.


	16. Under the Florida Sun

**Chapter Sixteen – Under the Florida Sun**

Jeff reclined in his seat having just finished a meal. Once again, he took in his surroundings. Certainly, the corporate guest side of things at the WSA had become very plush since his day. His eye was caught by some piece of artwork at the other end of the room. He realised that it depicted his most famous mission, that of the return to the moon on the cusp of the 21st century. The astronauts were painted in heroic postures, as if striding towards the future. Jeff tilted his head slightly. _Geez, is that guy in the middle supposed to be me?_

"Commemorative artwork," said his companion. "Pretty neat, huh?"

"Yeah. Really captures the spirit of the mission," Jeff lied, knowing with certainty that Virgil could have created something infinitely better than the misplaced, patriotic mess he had just had the misfortune to see. He tore his eyes away and looked back at his dining partner. He had known Malcolm Dunn since he first started working for the WSA, but it had been a few years since they had last seen each other. During the intervening time, Jeff had made Tracy Industries a global phenomenon and Malcolm had become a WSA director. Consequently, they were having a good catch-up and discussion about the latest WSA project.

"Well, this next generation shuttle should get some of that space faring spirit back in the air," Malcolm said.

"Anything that would enable easy colonisation of the moon, beyond the current scientific base up there, would certainly do that," replied Jeff.

"Sure would," Malcolm agreed. "If all goes according to plan, we'll be building a fully established space port on the moon first, the idea being that we'll have a launch pad for future missions to Mars and beyond."

"I'm looking forward to it," Jeff said. "To truly step out of the boundaries of our planet and grow… I almost wish I were still a true part of it rather than just supplying a few of the nuts and bolts." Malcolm grinned at him.

"Without those nuts and bolts, there'd be no space programme," he said. He grew solemn again as he leaned forwards. "But if you're serious, Jeff, there could be opportunities in the WSA developmental departments. With the EMESRY project at the testing stage, we're looking ahead to the space port and colony assignments. We could always use an innovative engineer such as your good self."

"That's tempting, Mal. But I've got enough on my plate these days," Jeff replied.

"Aww, come on. Surely it's time one or two of your sons did the hard work," Malcolm cajoled.

"They do more than enough," answered Jeff. Malcolm took a sip of his drink.

"Well, perhaps you needn't involve yourself directly. It could be a team from Tracy Industries," he said. Jeff nodded.

"I'll keep it in mind and when it's closer to the time, we can have a detailed discussion about it," he said.

"Okay. You've got first dibs on a potential contract with us," Malcolm told him, cheerfully.

"Thanks," replied Jeff, genially. There was a pause as the two men sipped at their drinks and looked out through the huge windows that gave an excellent view of general activity at the WSA buildings, and, in the distance, the launch pads from which many a rocket or shuttle had began their journey into space, including Jeff's own historic moon landing mission. However, if EMESRY was successful, those launch pads would eventually become obsolete, another curiosity to add to history's archive.

After some further small talk, they made their way down to the area where the prototype EMESRY was about to make its first ground tests as opposed to just being statistics on a computer simulation. If these were successful, flight tests would follow shortly. For now, the WSA was content to just do the introductions. Jeff looked around him. There were a couple of dozen people present, plus a few members of the press, whose numbers would no doubt increase if or when EMESRY made it into the sky, which would be when the new space vehicle would be introduced to the world at large.

"Ladies and gentlemen, many thanks for attending the first series of tests for the World Space Agency's innovative Earth Moon Express Shuttle Relay, or EMESRY. As you will know, vehicles capable of sub orbital flight have been commonplace for around ten years now. EMESRY goes one step further by being capable of reaching orbit without the aid of a rocket or tons of environmentally damaging fuel. More than that, EMESRY has been designed to make regular journeys between the Earth and its moon, as you may have gathered from the name. It is the hope of the WSA that EMESRY will revolutionise the way we think…" The voice faded into the background as Jeff half turned his attention elsewhere. He had the strangest feeling that someone's eyes were drilling into him. Carefully, he began to search for the culprit, if there was one. It could very well simply be that he was becoming paranoid with all this mystery stuff.

Of course, it wasn't as if he never possessed of a degree of paranoia in the first place, with keeping the secrets of International Rescue under wraps.

However, he was currently out and about in the open, away from the isolation of Tracy Island. He was also beginning to poke his nose into something that, in all likelihood, certain people wouldn't want him near. Jeff scanned the room. Everybody else seemed transfixed on the speaker espousing the wonders of EMESRY. Except… Jeff caught a well-groomed man in the act of averting his eyes. Some instinct told him that this was the guilty party. Being watched had always been something that bothered Jeff, even before he hit the limelight as an astronaut. He had always valued his personal privacy, and hated the thought of some stranger trying to peel back the layers of his character. He kept a wary eye on the man for the rest of the test and afterwards caught up with Malcolm.

"Who's that?" he asked, nodding subtly in the direction of the well-groomed man, who was mixing with several other equally polished looking individuals.

"That would be Xavier Remington," Malcolm replied, after a slight pause.

"What's his business?"

"He works for the Miami Technology Center."

"I see. They hold an interest in EMESRY, then?"

"Only a minor interest. The MTC are more attracted to playing a part in the future development of the moon. Say, I'm surprised that you haven't met at some point."

"I'd be a liar if I said that I knew everybody in the technological world," Jeff replied. Malcolm clapped him on the back.

"Well, I'll introduce you, then," he said. Jeff hesitated.

"Thanks, but I need to be going. I've got business to attend to," he said. "Maybe at the next test?" Malcolm gave his friend a slightly odd look, but then nodded.

"Sure. Looking forward to seeing you there."

"So far, so good," replied Jeff. The two men shook hands and then went their separate ways.

* * *

Once Jeff was away from the Kennedy Space Center, he dialled into a communications device that was secreted on his person.

"Hi Penny, it's Jeff."

"Good evening, Jeff. How are you?"

"Fine, thanks. I need to ask another favour of you."

"Have you got a lead of some sort?" Penelope's voice contained a quiet quaver of excitement.

"Not exactly," Jeff told her. "More of a gut feeling."

"That can often be as good as anything," Penelope replied. "And it is more than I currently have, regretfully."

"Never mind. I know that it's not for the lack of trying," Jeff reassured her. "I need you to try and chat up someone into checking the AIDD again."

"Who is it that you need the information on?" Penelope asked.

"Xavier Remington. He's based at the Miami Technology Center. He was at the shuttle test today. Seemed to be seizing me up."

"Is that so unusual? Perhaps he was simply looking for an opportunity to speak to you."

"No. It was more than that. Don't ask me how I know. I just do."

"I trust your judgement, Jeff. I shall see what I can come up with."

"I know I can rely on you, Penny. In the meantime, I'm going to find out more about the Miami Technology Center. I know a little bit about them, but not a great deal."

"Are you going down to Miami?"

"Not yet. I'll do a bit of distance learning first," Jeff said. "I'll let you know if I find anything relevant."

"I shall do the same if I am successful," Penelope replied.

"Understood. And I hope that you'll find Parker before too long," Jeff said.

"Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Jeff."

"You too, Penny. Goodbye." With the connection cut, Jeff continued on his journey in silence. Once back at the rented apartment, he started up the computer and began his investigation into the Miami Technology Center. On the face of things, it seemed to be a typical science and engineering institute and nothing particularly special. Still, there was nothing wrong with eyeing up potential competition, and despite the real reasons for his enquiry, he couldn't help but be interested in what the Miami Technology Centre was involved with.

* * *

It was around lunchtime the following day before he heard from Penelope. He was on his way back to Kennedy when she called.

"I was very fortunate in that the nice man, who was present when I made the enquiry into Natasha, was working when I returned to the local FBI bureau. Once again he was most helpful," she said.

"What did you find out?" Jeff asked. She hesitated slightly.

"There's no such person," she told him. Jeff almost swerved off the road.

"That can't be right. Xavier Remington was mentioned several times on the MTC information pages, in his role as a senior director. Malcolm identified the guy as Xavier Remington. He must exist."

"Not according to the AIDD, Jeff."

"Great. That's just great. How in the heck…" He shook his head and composed himself. "Well, Malcolm said that he'd introduce us today. Guess I'll just have to see what I can gather from talking to the guy."

"I'll continue to try and find some background information," Penelope said.

"Okay."

"Take care, Jeff. It would seem that we may be getting close to something. Whether that has anything to do with our concerns… Well, no doubt that it will soon become clear."

"I won't take any unnecessary risks, Penny," Jeff assured her. He arrived back at the space centre and sure enough, the man identified as Xavier Remington, who technically didn't exist, was there once again, chatting to people. But not Jeff. Malcolm, it turned out, had some matters to attend to in another part of the WSA, so never made his promised introduction. Jeff tried to get close to Remington, but somehow never quite made it. So it was that the day turned out to be a frustrating one. Jeff hoped that Penny would be more successful. He got into his rented car and prepared to return to his accommodation. There was a tap at the window. He turned his head at the noise, and saw Xavier Remington peering at him. Then Jeff noticed the gun held not too far away from the glass.

"Mr Tracy, I presume?" Remington asked. Jeff nodded, cautiously. Remington smiled mirthlessly.

"I hear that you've been looking for me. Shall we go for a drive?"


	17. Evening Interlude

**Chapter Seventeen – Evening Interlude**

It was getting late into the evening. Too late. She didn't like it. Every bone in her body, every instinct that she relied on, was screaming at her to do something about the situation.

_Just wait a few more minutes…._

Penelope had willed the thought into her mind several times now, and it seemed to get less and less plausible each time. Time was up. She twice tapped the tip of her seemingly innocuous ballpoint pen hard on the table. For the fifth time in the past few hours, there was only silence as nobody the other end of the communications line picked up. Either Jeff couldn't talk, or he had lost his own communications device. Neither scenario came across to her as particularly appealing. A sudden swell of anxiety made tears prick the backs of her eyes, and she bit down on the feeling, determined not to let it control her.

_Don't get emotionally involved in investigations…_

Whoever came up with that rule never had the misfortune to suffer the indignity of colleagues disappearing practically under their nose. Colleagues who were also friends. More than that, perhaps the two closest friends that she had. Yes, she had plenty of friends, some of whom she had known since childhood. Friends with whom she shopped and attended parties with. They were not, however, friends that she could share secrets and tales of adventure with. They were not people with which she could be her true self. Parker and Jeff - although both were easily old enough to be her father – were people whom she felt understood her. They were not judgemental, as most people within her aristocratic social circle were. To Penelope, Parker was like a protective uncle and Jeff… Jeff was a little harder to define. She would like to say that Jeff filled the gap left by her deceased father, yet that somehow wasn't right.

Now she was sat all alone in her hotel room in New York City. First Parker, now Jeff. What had started off for Penelope as a little bit of light detective work on behalf of her friend who was looking for a woman identical to his dead wife had now escalated into something else completely. She shivered slightly and looked around her surroundings.

_What if I'm next to disappear?_

That thought, rather than disturbing the blonde Englishwoman, made her pull herself together. Jeff might have disappeared, but that still left plenty of options open. Options that may yet keep her a step ahead of whatever forces happened to be at work here. However, in order to get those options, she was going to have to make the call that she never really wanted to, under any circumstance. Letting out a small sigh, she sat down on the edge of the bed and opened up her powder compact.

"Scott. I have some news for you."

* * *

She was dreaming about holding the baby again, when she awoke with a start. The dream bothered her more than any other recollection had since she had come across Jeff, and found that as well as dreaming about a life that was and was not hers all at the same time, she was suddenly able to recall things during her waking moments. At least when she was awake, she could control what her brain decided to recall.

Of course, it would be better if she couldn't recall those memories at all. It would have saved her a lot of hassle, including her current predicament.

But, she had decided to keep quiet, and so she supposed that she only had herself to blame in that respect. She got out of bed and stumbled over to where there was a washbasin and mirror. Her face looked pale, contrasting sharply with her russet hair. She ran the cold water tap and splashed her face. She stood upright again in order to dry herself, and froze.

Her reflection wasn't a reflection.

It looked like her, certainly, but the person in the mirror wasn't following her movements in the same way that they should have been. She took a cautious step back. The reflection didn't move.

"I don't understand," she said.

"You should do," the reflection replied, in a voice that wasn't quite her own, either.

"You… You… Lucy? But you can't be. You're dead." She was annoyed at her stammering, and balled her hands into fists in order to try and get a grip. The reflection – Lucy – looked back at her, serenely.

"I live on in you, therefore I'm not completely gone," she replied. "You can try and suppress me, but it won't work. Every time you look in a mirror, like you are doing now, you see me. You hear me always. You see the life I lived."

"I am my own person!" Natasha snapped back. "I didn't ask to have your memories rattling around my mind. I didn't ask to have your face. I didn't ask to be here. I just want to live a life of my own."

"Well, so far you've done a really good job of that," Lucy told her, with more than a touch of sarcasm. "If you wanted a life of your own, you'd have found a way out of this mess a long time ago."

"It's not that simple," Natasha said, heatedly.

"The only person who can do anything to change your situation is you."

"Oh, please. If you hadn't met Jeff, you'd still be languishing somewhere in England, just drifting along."

"But I still had to do a lot of hard work on my own to get to where I was at your age."

"I don't need to be lectured by you, of all people," said Natasha. "As far as I'm concerned, you're dead and I'm still very much alive. You had your life, so stay the hell out of mine."

"That's not possible, and you know it," said Lucy. With an enraged noise that was somewhere between a growl and a squeal, Natasha drew back her fist and smashed it into the mirror as hard as she could, shattering it into pieces.

She awoke for real, her knuckles aching from being slammed into the wall. As she rubbed them, she looked over to the washbasin. The mirror hung above it, still perfectly intact.

"Stupid dream," she said aloud, if only to dispel the knot in her stomach. But despite the warmth of her blankets, she couldn't quite get rid of the chilling feeling of being watched from beyond the grave.

* * *

Parker meanwhile, was wide awake and studying. Doctor Blalock hadn't given him any further information about what exactly was going on, but Parker had gained his trust enough to have him moved to some more comfortable quarters and have a limited amount of freedom. It was all that he needed. A peek out of a window revealed him to be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by lots of trees. With no further visible landmarks to guide him, he had instead fallen back on his other plan: get in touch with Mr Tracy's boys at International Rescue. In order to do this, Parker needed to somehow get hold of a transmitter. Of what kind, it didn't matter. The message would get through.

He carefully removed the receiver that he had been wearing when captured from its hiding place within a drawer. Mercifully, it had remained undetected by Blalock and his goons. It was completely possible to turn the receiver into a transmitter with a bit of jiggery-pokery, but the device was tiny and Parker lacked both the necessary tools and the skill for dealing with the advanced technology. However, that did not mean that the wily ex-con was going to give up on the item being useless. Parker knew that everything, no matter how innocuous or mundane, had a possible use when in a tight scrape.

He found himself recalling a nonsensical riddle from his childhood. _You are in a room with no doors or windows, and the only piece of furniture is a chair. How do you escape?_ The answer was thus. You rub your hands together until they are sore. Then you use the saw to cut the chair in half. Two halves make a whole. You put the hole on the wall and shout through it until you are hoarse. Then you get on the horse and ride away.

If only things were that simple, or even possible, in real life. Still, Parker didn't doubt that 'er Ladyship and Mr Tracy were looking for him, even now. Anything that he could do to help them locate his position would be a relief for both them and himself. He placed the receiver back in its hiding place. He had work to do.

* * *

Scott terminated the open communications channel between himself and Penelope, and rubbed at his temples. The mysterious Natasha missing, Parker missing and now his father, missing. If only his father could have left well alone. If only he, Scott, hadn't twisted things so that his father would go off on this adventure. But at the time, it had only seemed like something harmless that would get Jeff out from behind his desk. Now it had turned into something serious. His father had gotten too close to something or someone. Scott sighed. There could be no more pretence. It was time to tell the truth to the remainder of the Tracy clan. 


	18. In the Morning Light

**Chapter Eighteen – In the Morning Light**

"I don't appreciate being spied on, Mr Tracy."

"I wasn't spying on you, Mr Remington." Jeff looked evenly into his captor's pale blue eyes. Xavier Remington had made him drive for many miles away from Cape Kennedy. Jeff had an idea that they had headed south, but had no real knowledge of where exactly they were. The journey was made in silence, except for Remington's occasional directions. Now, in the grey early morning light, they were stood by Jeff's car, surrounded by nothing but miles of flat land, inhabited only by the local wildlife. Jeff could see that Remington no longer had his gun trained on him, but wasn't going to take any chances. He made sure that his body language, his voice, all remained none threatening. Remington, for his part, made no effort to hide the fact that he was both suspicious of, and amused by, his prisoner.

"You certainly did a very keen investigation into my place of work," he said.

"It always pays to keep an eye on the competition," replied Jeff.

"And do you also keep an eye on your competition by illegally obtaining information from the AIDD?" Remington asked, coolly.

"I didn't obtain any information from the AIDD," said Jeff. Remington raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? So it was just a coincidence that a young lady approached the New York FBI bureau to search the AIDD for information about myself at around the same time that you were reading up on the Miami Technology Center?"

"I would say so," Jeff answered. Remington's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Well, I'm afraid that I don't believe in coincidences," he said. "Especially since I know that you were in New York before you travelled here. That young lady wouldn't happen to be an acquaintance of yours, would she?"

"I have many female employees. It would be difficult to say if she was one," said Jeff, with something of a shrug in his voice.

"Late twenties. Blonde. Blue eyed. Slim. About five-six. English accent. Ring any bells?"

"That could easily describe half a dozen people wandering around New York City," said Jeff. "If I may say so, Mr Remington, it seems that you've been doing an awful lot of snooping around on my business." The corner of Remington's mouth twitched upwards slightly.

"Wouldn't you, if you were in my position?"

"What, exactly, is your position?"

"I'm a senior director of the Miami Technology Centre. But then, you already know that. Just as you know that technically, I don't exist."

"So I guess I'm either crazy or talking to a ghost, then."

"You're a sensible man, Mr Tracy. Sensible men know to stay out of trouble. Especially those with too much to loose should trouble arise." Jeff's cobalt eyes settled coldly on his captor.

"I don't take well to threats," he said.

"Merely hypothesising," Remington replied. He took out his gun and calmly pointed it at Jeff. "This is a threat." He placed the weapon back in its holster.

"Killing one of the world's most high profile businessmen probably wouldn't be the brightest move," said Jeff.

"For the average man, it probably wouldn't be," Remington agreed. There was a silence between the two. A slight breeze bent the grass away from them as the sun tried to force its rays through the clouds that currently blanketed the sky. Remington was the first to speak.

"I take it that we understand each other, then," he said.

"Not really," Jeff replied. Remington simply looked mildly amused.

"We're both businessmen, Mr Tracy. We move in different circles, that's all. Circles that have happened to overlap today." Jeff matched the other man's look of mild amusement as he adopted a casual tone.

"If I were to merely hypothesise, those circles wouldn't have happened to overlap at around the turn of the century, would they?"

"I'm afraid that I did not work for any company that held an interest in the space programme at that particular point in time," the pale eyed man told him. Jeff shrugged.

"Like I said, just a hypothesis," he said. "Since we're both here in the Sunshine State now, I wondered if we were both here in the Sunshine State back then – but I forgot that you don't believe in coincidences. My mistake."

"Watch that you don't make too many more in the future, Mr Tracy. I'd hate to think of the global meltdown caused by the collapse of the mighty Tracy Industries." Remington appeared to be deadly serious in his threat; however Jeff refused to be daunted. He eyed Remington carefully.

"Who do you work for?"

"The Miami Technology Center," he replied.

"Apart from them."

"What concern is it of yours?" Remington seemed genuinely curious.

"I'm interested," Jeff said, "in how a man who doesn't exist according to the American Identity Database – one of the world's most comprehensive catalogues of information - can be working as a named director of a not-too-unimportant company. More than that, he's obviously well connected in other places, as demonstrated by the fact that he was rubbing shoulders with NASA and WSA top brass over the past day or two."

"You're not too unconnected yourself, Mr Tracy," remarked Remington. He smirked slightly. "Jeff Tracy, national hero. The man who led the return to the moon. Went on to establish Tracy Industries, the umbrella for a dozen other smaller corporations. Self made billionaire several times over. In recent years, he's become something of a recluse, living out his days on his private island, with only the occasional foray into the wider world. He has five sons, each of whom has done something to distinguish themselves from their illustrious father; however they still choose to remain tied to Tracy Senior's purse strings, much to the heartbreak of a lot of young ladies, if the cream of the social scene is to be believed.

"But of course, no success story could be complete without a great tragedy. In Jeff's case, his tragedy would easily be the early death of his wife Lucille, in a highway pile-up on the outskirts of Boston twenty years ago. To be exact, it'll be twenty one years ago, come this fall." Remington paused and studied Jeff as one would an insect in a jar. "I've seen men like you before, Mr Tracy. Rich beyond their wildest dreams, living the kind of life many people would sell their mothers for, if they thought it would help. Yet you can't be truly happy, because your precious wife was ripped away in circumstances beyond your control, a nightmare for a man who finds it difficult not to have some power over how his life plays out. It's a very sad situation, living with a hole in your soul. I admire you in that you've not allowed it to lead you into dark places. Not every man could remain an upstanding citizen given your circumstances."

"Guess you have me pretty much figured out," was Jeff's only response. In his younger days, he might have felt tempted to try and knock several shades out of Remington. He had learned to be restrained over the years, to bite down on that little white hot flame of temper. You couldn't be in charge of a major international company if you let people get to you easily. However, being outwardly restrained did not stop Jeff from imagining himself planting a fist or two into Remington's face. If the other man had an inkling of what was running through Jeff's head at that moment, he didn't show it. Instead, he nodded towards the rough track that Jeff had driven them down earlier.

"If you turn left at the highway, you'll hit civilisation quicker." Jeff stared at him.

"You're just going to dump me here?"

"Be grateful that I've not left you at Disneyland," Remington curtly replied, getting into the car, one hand once again pointing a gun towards Jeff. The car started up and swung away back up the track, leaving Jeff standing alone in the middle of the field, listening to the fading sound of the vehicle's engine. When he could hear the sound no longer, he began to make his way back to the main highway, turning left as Remington had suggested. He paused. Before him, the black asphalt stretched in a straight line for as far as he could see, with no buildings adorning its edges. Jeff let out a sigh.

"Looks like I'll have to try and hitch a ride," he said, beginning to trudge along the road. At least it being the very early morning meant that the temperatures were cool. He raised his hand and looked into his watch, which doubled as a standard communications device – standard for the residents of Tracy Island, at least.

"International Rescue Base, this is Jeff Tracy. Come in, Scott." He kept walking as he waited for a response to come.

"Dad! Thank God. Are you okay? What the hell's happened?" Scott sounded understandably relieved, anxious and perhaps even a little angry, all at the same time.

"I'm fine, son. Somebody wanted to have a quiet word with me," Jeff replied. "I'll explain later. Right now, I want to know where the blazes I am."

"You're heading towards Lake Okeechobee," Scott told him. "Virgil should be able to rendezvous with you shortly. He's on his way back from Italy. Mount Vesuvius erupted and we were called to assist in the evacuation of the surrounding area. Fortunately, it was a small flare-up on the scale of things, and Naples hasn't been too badly hit."

"That's good to hear," Jeff replied. "What's Virgil's ETA?"

"Forty minutes, providing he keeps a good tail wind," Scott replied.

"So, how's things your end?" Jeff asked. There was silence the other end, and Jeff thought that the connection had been lost. He spoke tentatively into the watch. "Scott? Are you there?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm here."

"What's the matter? You're not mad at me or something, are you?"

"No… No, I'm not mad at you," Scott replied, somewhat evasively. Jeff frowned, even though his eldest son couldn't see him.

"Scott…" He let just the slightest shade of exasperation show in his voice. He heard something like a sigh at the other end of the line.

"They know, Dad."

"Know what? About why I'm really out here?"

"I'm sorry. When Lady Penelope told me that she'd lost contact with you… I had to tell them."

"I understand, Scott. How did they take it?" There was another hesitation before Scott spoke again.

"Well…"

* * *

"Hello?" 

"It's me. We've got a problem. Will be there ASAP. We'll talk then."


	19. Just Before They Came Undone

**Chapter Nineteen – Just Before They Came Undone**

_Some hours earlier…_

Scott terminated the open communications channel between himself and Penelope, and rubbed at his temples. The mysterious Natasha missing, Parker missing and now his father, missing. If only his father could have left well alone. If only he, Scott, hadn't twisted things so that his father would go off on this adventure. But at the time, it had only seemed like something harmless that would get Jeff out from behind his desk. Now it had turned into something serious. His father had gotten too close to something or someone. Scott sighed. There could be no more pretence. It was time to tell the truth to the remainder of the Tracy clan.

He decided to talk to Virgil first, given that his russet-haired brother was also in on the real reasons behind their father's continuing absence from Tracy Island. Virgil was also extremely level headed and practical, just the sort of qualities that Scott needed at that point in time. He found the pilot of Thunderbird Two alone on the small beach in a cove that was situated to the north west of the island. It was one of Virgil's favourite places to find solitude, a precious commodity when you lived on a small South Pacific knoll with nine other people plus the occasional guest. Unfortunately, that solitude could be too easily interrupted as Virgil found out when he noticed Scott scrambling down the steep, rocky path into the cove. Heaving a small sigh, he put aside a board upon which he had been crafting an ocean view in oil pastels.

"Hey," he said, by way of a slightly unenthusiastic greeting.

"Sorry for the interruption, Virg," Scott acknowledged, knowing how much the artist of the family disliked unnecessary intrusion when in the midst of a creative period.

"What's up?" Virgil asked, seeing that Scott was obviously bothered about something, a fact that helped to quell his own annoyance at being disturbed.

"I've just been talking to Penelope," Scott told him.

"And?"

"And she didn't have the best of news. Dad's gone missing in Florida. She hasn't been able to communicate with him."

"Hmm." True to form, Virgil didn't launch into immediate histrionics. Instead, his hazel-brown eyes grew contemplative and his brow knit slightly. "What was he up to before Penelope lost contact?"

"He was trying to find out information about some guy – Teddington, I think… Damn… Well, I've got it written down back at the house. Anyway, it was after Dad began nosing around that he seems to have gotten into trouble."

"Have you tried contacting him?"

"No," Scott admitted. "I came straight here to find you."

"Right." Virgil turned and began packing up his kit. "We should head back and try and get in contact ourselves before anything else."

"Yes. Of course." Scott shook his head. "I'm completely dumb. I should have thought of that myself."

"Never mind, Scott. We can sort it in a few minutes," replied Virgil. He finished tidying everything into a satchel, and then the two of them began to make their way back up the path to the top of the small escarpment. The climb didn't leave them with much breath with which to talk, so no words were exchanged until they had reached the top.

"I'm going to have to tell Alan, Gordon and John," said Scott.

"Don't jump to conclusions," said Virgil. "We might be able to get hold of Dad ourselves and find out that he's okay."

"Yeah… We might," replied Scott, doubtfully.

"Now's a great time to be having doubts, Scott," Virgil told him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Scott asked, defensively, responding to the slight edge that had appeared in his brother's voice. Virgil stopped and faced him.

"As I recall, you were the one who confidently predicted that Dad would be a couple of days on a harmless excursion," he said.

"That's exactly what it seemed like at the time," Scott retorted.

"Yes, I know," said Virgil. He imitated Scott. "'Nothing's going to happen to him'. 'I've got it all under control'."

"Look, I didn't plan for him to go roaming," Scott replied. "If I thought for a moment that there was more to this…"

"We've known for days that there was more to it than mistaken identity," Virgil interrupted. Unlike Scott, he rarely raised his voice, instead using nuances to demonstate his feelings. The effect was that he remained the essence of calm whilst the person he argued against became louder as they grew angrier. This was exactly what was happening now, with Scott.

"Well, what would you have had me do, Virg? Stopped him from leaving and then have him going nuts here on the island? There's no way in hell that he'd sit still and forget about this Natasha. You know how he is about Mom." If the glare of Scott's bright blue eyes were capable of generating heat, then Virgil would have been in danger of having a hole burned through him. As it was, he remained unperturbed.

"Something should have been done sooner," he argued. "As soon as Parker and Natasha went missing, we should have intervened."

"For what reason? Could you imagine Dad's reaction? He was mad enough that Penelope turned up."

"And she should never have let Dad go off by himself," said Virgil.

"She was looking for Parker," retorted Scott. "And if she had gone with Dad, then maybe both of them could be in trouble right now and we'd be none the wiser until we realised that we hadn't heard from either of them, which would be a couple of days down the line." Virgil didn't reply, instead continuing to look unhappily at Scott. The eldest Tracy son took the opportunity to calm himself down.

"Virgil. Maybe I did make an error in judgement. If that's the case, then it's done. I can't do anything about what's already happened. All I can do is consider the current situation and make the best of it." He looked pleadingly at his brother. "I need your help in order to do that, Virg. If the worst happens…if I have to tell them… If Dad is… I have to know that I can count on you for support. 'Coz heaven knows I'm gonna need it." There was another silence. Then, to Scott's great relief, Virgil slowly nodded his head.

"Okay. I'll back you up. Dad's welfare is the important thing, and his situation's not going to be helped by us standing arguing over things we can't change." Scott grinned as they began making their way towards the house once again.

"You have no idea how pleased I am to hear you say that," he said.

"Don't be too pleased. I'm still annoyed," Virgil told him. He looked at his older brother out of the corner of his eye. "A little bit."

"We'll work it out later," Scott promised. The two of them usually settled things over a glass or two of their father's finest spirits. However, Scott was certain that they were all bound to need more then a glass or two of the good stuff after this mess was cleared up.

Once they were back at the house, Scott dug out the notebook in which he had jotted down everything relayed to him by either Lady Penelope or his father over the past few days. Virgil read through the latest offerings, whilst Scott tried to contact their father, without success. They sat and looked at each other; Scott seated behind the desk, whilst Virgil was perched on the edge.

"Grandma," Virgil said, suddenly. "How are you going to tell her?"

"Carefully," Scott replied. "But I won't keep it from her. She was good enough to bring this whole thing to my attention in the first place. It's only fair that I'm honest with her, even if it's not good news. First though, we need to try and track down Dad."

"Guess that means putting a call through to John, then," said Virgil. Scott nodded, reluctantly.

"I don't know if I'd rather that Alan was up there or not," he said.

"Well, neither of them is up there indefinitely," Virgil pointed out.

"Yeah, but you know exactly how Alan will react when he's upset. It can be nasty, but it's over quickly. John can hold it in for weeks and then when you think that it's been forgotten, he'll bring the issue up out of the blue. Even then, you don't know whether he'll laugh it off or make it into a big deal."

"You're procrastinating," Virgil told him.

"Alright." Scott pressed the button that activated the communications channel to Thunderbird Five, International Rescue's own space station and the lifeline for many a person in dire straits, wherever they were in the world.

"Base to Thunderbird Five." After a pause, a live image of John's blond-topped head replaced his portrait on the wall.

"Thunderbird Five here. Hiya, Scott. Virgil. What's up?" John seemed his usual cordial self.

"I need you to pinpoint Dad's location via his communicator's internal tracker," Scott said, without preamble.

"What for?" John asked.

"Just find him, John. I'll explain after."

"No need to get snappy, Scott. I'm onto it." He turned away in order to access the correct controls. "I've got the signal. He's…in Florida?" John's surprise was clear, even though they couldn't see him.

"Whereabouts in Florida?" Scott asked.

"He's moving in a roughly southerly direction… Let me overlay the city and road maps… According to this, he's on the I-95, heading towards Miami. What's he doing down there? I thought that he had business in New York?" John reappeared on the screen, looking rather bemused.

"He did have matters to tend to in New York, but events have taken him to Florida," said Scott, feeling relieved that at least they were able to track their father.

"Riiiight. So if you knew that he was in Florida, why'd you need me to tell you that?"

"Because there's more to Dad's trip to New York than I've told you about," Scott said, bracing himself.

"Oh? Is he starting up a new business venture or something?"

"No."

"Well, what then?" John eyed his brothers, carefully. "If this is some silly guessing game, then I'll tell you now that…"

"It's to do with Mom," Scott said, cutting him off. John's sky blue eyes narrowed slightly.

"In what way?" he asked. Scott took a deep breath…


	20. A Fractious Fraternity

**Chapter Twenty – A Fractious Fraternity**

…and proceeded to tell John everything, from their father's agitated state when he first returned home from his original New York City business trip, to the revelation that he was convinced that he had seen their deceased mother, through to his and Penelope's conviction that this Natasha Morgan-Evans was part of a much bigger picture, and finally, Jeff's investigation into the Miami Technology Centre and its mysterious director, Xavier Remington, the latter of which seemed to be directly to Jeff's disappearance.

"So that's why I needed you to find his location," Scott finished. John, who hadn't said a word during the tale, remained silent, his face blank.

"Well?" The question came from Virgil.

"Well?" John eventually echoed. "What am I supposed to say to that?"

"Something," Scott said.

"If I hadn't heard it from you, I would have thought that someone was playing a rather sick joke," John replied. He shook his head, slightly. "I don't understand why Dad would want to put us through that."

"Through what?"

"I always knew that he had double standards when it came to Mom," John continued, not listening to Scott. "He gets all grouchy and evasive if we ever enquire, or even want to talk about her, yet it's okay for him to drop everything and go chasing after some…some impostor or whatever she is. Now he's apparently got himself into trouble. Didn't he think about us at all?"

"You know what Dad's like when he gets hooked on something," Virgil said.

"Are you excusing him?" John asked.

"No, of course not. I'm simply saying that it's nothing intentional on his part," Virgil replied, in his calm manner.

"That doesn't make it okay, though, does it?" John pointed out. There was an awkward silence.

"I'll transfer the data link through to you, so you can keep an eye on Dad yourselves," John said, changing the subject slightly.

"Thanks," Scott replied. A moment later, Alan's portrait disappeared to reveal a map of Florida, upon which a little red dot was moving steadily southwards.

"So, when you gonna tell Gordo and Alan?"

"Well, now that we know where Dad is…" Scott began, but John cut him off.

"Oh, no. You've kept this to yourself long enough," he said.

"John…"

"No. They have a right to know. And if you don't tell them, Scott, then I will." John sounded uncharacteristically harsh, and because of that, Scott knew that he meant what he said. There would be nothing that he could do about it, either. From Thunderbird Five, John had a wealth of different communication devices at his command. Although Scott, as the eldest and most experienced, was Jeff's second-in-command as far as International Rescue was concerned, given that this issue essentially revolved around personal business, there was nothing that he could really do to order John to keep his mouth shut. Unless he was prepared to take Thunderbird Three up there and physically sit on him. However, that wasn't a practical scenario at the moment.

"He's right, Scott." Virgil's soft timbre penetrated his thoughts. Scott let out a sigh.

"Fine. I'll do it."

"Glad to hear it," John replied. "Anyway, I should get back to work, instead of taking up airtime. If I get a call from Dad - or Parker for that matter - I'll be in touch." He abruptly cut the connection, before either of his older brothers could protest.

"He's angry," Virgil commented.

"No shit, Sherlock," Scott retorted. "I'm gonna contact Lady Penelope. Let her know that Dad's on the move, at least."

"Sure," Virgil shrugged. He moved from his resting place on the edge of the desk. "If it's okay by you, I'm going to run some tunes through the piano."

"Yeah, fine. Whatever," Scott replied. Deciding that it was best not to pass any further remark, Virgil left his brother to it.

* * *

"Well… They say that truth is stranger than fiction, I guess." Gordon noisily tackled the dregs of a homemade smoothie with a straw, a slight crinkle in his brow as he thoughtfully contemplated the story told to him by Scott. His pale eyes darted across to his older brother. 

"So, you gonna rescue him, or what?"

"How? He's likely been abducted by this Remington guy, somebody who obviously has connections of a sort. Imagine the reaction if a Thunderbird suddenly and mysteriously shows up on the scene for no apparent reason. A guy like that's gonna be more than a little suspicious," said Scott. "The last thing Dad will need is somebody poking around into International Rescue."

"What about Lady Penelope?"

"She'd be hours away, even in FAB1," Virgil answered.

"And I'm loathe to take her out of New York," Scott added. "Not with so much of this puzzle being centred around that area." Gordon nodded and made a final attempt at reaching the last bits of smoothie. After a minute or so, he gave up and set the beaker on the side.

"Couldn't we alert the local cops or something?"

"Same difference," Scott said.

"So, what if Dad takes a bullet?" Gordon was as open and straightforward in his thoughts as ever.

"Dad's too high risk to just bump off," Scott replied.

"Bit of a gamble there, Scott."

"Look, call it a gut feeling, Gords. Besides, who's to say that the worst is what's going to happen?"

"What'cha getting at?"

"Well, they're heading towards Miami. This Xavier Remington is a director of the Miami Technology Center, according to Dad and Penelope's findings. So, maybe they're on their way there for some reason. There may be nothing sinister to Dad's disappearance at all," Scott theorized.

"Mmm," Gordon agreed. "But, if that's the case, why can't we contact him?"

"It could be that Dad's being taken to see some top secret stuff and doesn't want the interruption, or the like," Virgil suggested.

"Yeah, maybe," Gordon said. He tugged at his grubby t-shirt. "Anyway, I'm gonna have a shower. Let me know if you hear anything." He started towards the entrance to the kitchen. Scott and Virgil looked at each other.

"That's it?" Virgil asked, a little incredulously. Gordon turned back to them.

"What more do you want?" he replied, seeming surprised.

"Well…it's not just Dad here," Scott said. "There's the question of why some woman who looks exactly like Mom is running around out there. Doesn't that bother you?" The redheaded member of the Tracy clan paused and for once his face was drained of its usual jovial expression.

"I don't want to upset you any more," he eventually said.

"Spill it," Scott told him. Gordon grimaced slightly.

"It's not that I don't care, but in all honesty…it doesn't bother me," he said. "I mean, it bothers me that Dad's in trouble, and I know that he's probably got a zillion emotions churning around inside him at the moment. But a look-alike of Mom? It's intangible. I don't remember the real Mom." He looked down. "I wish I did, I really do. I think she'd have been fun. I mean, I've seen the pictures and heard stories from Grandma and things from you two and a bit from John. Dad doesn't like to say much, of course." His gaze settled on his brothers once more.

"I don't remember her, and therefore I don't miss her. Not in the same way that you and John can. You've got memories. I haven't. I can't miss somebody who I don't remember. You understand, don't you?"

"Sure."

"Not really." The conflicting responses from Virgil and Scott respectively made a corner of Gordon's mouth tug slightly upwards.

"It doesn't matter, I guess," he said. "So long as we get Dad back in one piece – or in enough pieces to put back together, at any rate." Scott stared at him.

"How can you be so blasé?" he asked.

"I'm not," Gordon replied, slightly defensively. "Just because I don't go around with a permanent scowl like _some_ people around here, doesn't mean that I'm not worried."

"Yeah? Well, you're not the one who's got to shoulder the responsibility," Scott retorted.

"Hey, don't get mad at me for _your_ problems that _you_ created," Gordon shot back. Scott's blue eyes narrowed.

"So this is my fault? Is that what you're saying?"

"Not exactly. But you're the one who encouraged him to go."

"In other words, it's my fault."

"Look, if you wanna play martyr…then yeah, it's your fault," Gordon replied, after returning Scott's glare. "Now, I'm going for my shower." With that, he squared his shoulders and left Scott and Virgil alone in the kitchen.

"Thanks for the backup, Virg," Scott grumbled.

"It's not the time to be getting into petty arguments," Virgil replied.

"Petty? He practically put the blame onto me!"

"You more or less told him to," Virgil pointed out. Before Scott could retort, he put a hand on his shoulder. "Just calm down. We don't need this to escalate." Scott looked at him for a moment, and then his shoulders slumped.

"You're right. Let's have a beer."

"That's an excellent suggestion."

* * *

The sound of a door being slammed against a wall, followed by the sound of stomping footsteps was more than enough to alert Scott to the fact that a rather annoyed person was on their way up to the lounge. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to see Alan appear. The face of the youngest Tracy sibling was bright red, and this, combined with his blond hair, made him look as if his head was on fire. As always when his youngest brother appeared in such a strop, Scott said a silent prayer and counted to ten. 

"What's up, Al…?"

"What the hell is going on?" Alan cut Scott off before his brother could finish saying his name. In what seemed like one breath, he had spewed out his angry sentence and crossed the lounge to where Scott was sat at the desk.

"You've let Dad go on a suicide mission!"

"Alan. Calm down. That's not it at all," Scott said, standing up.

"Pretty much sounded like it, from what Gordon said," Alan fired back.

"Dad's gonna be fine," Scott tried to assure him. Alan, however, was too worked up to listen to him.

"I can't believe that you let him go off after some sick bitch who's pretending to be our Mom."

"She's not pretending to be Mom. Dad knows she's not Mom."

"So that makes it okay?"

"No, it doesn't. That's why Dad's trying to get to the bottom of things."

"It's got to be money. She's after money. There's no other reason. Now he's in trouble. What if we don't see him again?"

"We will, Alan."

"How do you know?"

"How do you know otherwise?"

"Stop throwing things back at me."

"You're overreacting, as always."

"I am not overreacting!" Alan glared at his elder brother. "I tell you what. I'm going to take Thunderbird One, go to Florida, and bring Dad home."

"Even if I were prepared to let you do that, Alan, what makes you think that Dad will want to come home just yet?" The suggestion clearly hadn't entered Alan's head, for he abruptly paused in his tirade. He stared at Scott, his teeth grinding slightly.

"You don't think that he'd try and bring her back with him, do you?" he eventually said, some of his anger dissipating.

"I don't know," Scott admitted. He'd been wondering the same thing himself.

"Because I don't want her here, if that's what he's planning," Alan told him.

"We'll deal with it when we get to that stage," Scott said. Alan opened his mouth in order to add to the debate, but before he got a word out, the eyes of John's portrait began flashing. Scott gave Alan a warning look before he answered the call.

"Go ahead, John."

"There's an eruption of Mount Vesuvius imminent," he said. "We've been requested to assist in the evacuation of the smaller surrounding villages, and then help out as needed in Naples." John still sounded rather clipped in his tone.

"Alright. Tell them that we're on our way," Scott replied. John didn't even bother to reply as he terminated the communication.

"Florida's gonna have to wait," Scott said to Alan, as he summoned Virgil.

"I know where my priorities lie," Alan replied. He stalked over to the hidden entrance to the hanger of Thunderbird One. Scott didn't miss the baleful look his younger brother threw him as he swivelled out of sight. Putting their father out of his mind, Scott forced himself to concentrate on the immediate matters at hand. Despite this, his eyes were never off the little red dot on its southward journey for more than a few minutes.

* * *

"So…yeah. That's pretty much the situation here." 

"Sounds like I'm pretty much in the doghouse." Jeff looked skywards as if assistance would suddenly strike down from the heavens. "Well, I can't really blame them. And I don't blame you for having told them, Scott."

"They'll be okay," Scott said, although he sounded as if he were trying to reassure himself more than Jeff. "Once it's sunk in a bit. And once you've got some more information."

"Yes, of course," Jeff said. He paused and cocked his head slightly. "I think I can hear Thunderbird Two."

"You're right," Scott answered, after checking his charts. Jeff nodded.

"Okay. Do me a favour and contact Penny and tell her I'm alright."

"Will do, Dad. What's your next move?"

"Well, I've somehow got to retrieve my jet, and then I think I'd better get back to New York," Jeff said.

"I think that Penelope will be glad to see you," Scott replied. Jeff gave a humourless laugh.

"I'm sure she'll have a few words," he said. He glanced back up at the sky. "I can just see Two in the distance."

"I'll leave you with Virgil, then," Scott replied.

"Thanks, son. You're doing fine. Hopefully I'll be back soon."

"Hope so too, Dad." Scott's face vanished from Jeff's watch. If it hadn't been for Virgil's imminent arrival, Jeff would probably have taken advantage of his current isolation in order to vent some of the emotion that was presently bubbling under the surface. As it was, he took his frustration out on a small rock, kicking it some distance down the highway where it disappeared into the huge, looming shadow of Thunderbird Two. Despite the obvious wishes of Xavier Remington, Jeff was not going to abandon his quest just yet. There was still much work to be done.


End file.
